


Black Knight, White Queen

by pontmercy44



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, But not to Kylo Ren, F/M, For Days, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 53,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pontmercy44/pseuds/pontmercy44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke Skywalker wrote his sister a letter on his deathbed, revealing that his ward is the orphaned heir of a family long thought extinct - and politically powerful. That letter fell into the wrong hands, and the secret of Rey's heritage is secret no more. The Emperor has managed to unite the Kingdoms, but he is old, and his son is weak. Seeking to ensure his son's claim to his throne, he sends his most trusted captain to bring the girl - willing or not - to be his son's bride. Rey is taken from her far-flung home, and plunged into a world of court intrigue, arranged marriage, political rivals, and would-be assassins - the black knight her constant companion and bodyguard. But even he, her dark shadow and protector, she cannot know whether to trust...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you here because of my last work - welcome back! To everyone else - welcome! I am (secretly) a medieval/fantasy nerd, especially if there's a feisty heroine and handsome, dark antihero. I thought the imagery of TFA fit those tropes so well, so, here we are. Please be warned that there will be mature themes, language, violence, and sexuality. That said - please enjoy!

The dark rider came from the East, in mid-afternoon. He came alone, black cloak fluttering behind him, looking like the shadow of a hawk sweeping over the barren hills. His horse was flat-out galloping across the countryside. He didn’t come by the road, which swept southwest, around the mountains. He came across the foothills – he’d crossed the mountains, the shorter, but far harsher, route to Jakku.

Rey watched him from atop an outcrop, with a sense of detached curiosity. A lone rider poised little threat to the village, and in any case, he was riding from the East. The raiders came from the North, and in great numbers. She didn’t care to meet him alone, in the hills, though, so she regarded his progress for a moment longer before tugging the reins and turning her own mount around. He was riding hard, and her horse was admittedly old and thin, but she had a head start, and she knew these hills better than anyone.

She’d been riding and playing in these dry, dusty hills her whole life. Her adoptive father hadn’t had the heart to make much of a lady of her. Every morning, without fail, she’d studied her letters and arithmetic and languages. After her noon meal, he hadn’t known what to do with a little girl, and so she’d become a rapscallion. Helping the serfs with their work seemed infinitely more interesting than needlework or painting, so she’d endlessly pestered the stable boys, been thrown off a pony more times than she could count, picked vegetables with the old women, brought goats in for the night, and hunted rabbits in the short, stubby bushes that dotted the rocky, sandy soil.

Luke was dead, now. They’d buried him in the hills, without much ceremony, three weeks ago. He’d seemed to know his death was imminent, retreating to his room and sitting deep in thought, barely eating. On the last day, he’d sent a mysterious letter, via horseback courier, and then wordlessly gone to bed, and expired during the night.

This dark rider wasn’t their courier returned to them. Rey knew, though, that he must have something to do with Luke’s letter. There was no other reason to ride over the mountains to the far reaches of the Empire.

She circled around the village, rather than cut through it, pushing the old horse into a reluctant canter. Jakku was little more than fifteen or twenty stone cottages, shanties, and sheds, huddled in a dip in the hills. It sat in a hollow, sheltered from the wind and sandstorms, and at the north end, on the lip of the hollow, was the manor house. It was far too humble to be called a manor house, but it did sit on an outcrop, with a view over the village, the hills, and the snow-capped mountains beyond, giving it some appearance of importance.  

Rey rode around the back of the manor, urging the animal under her up the hill. The barn and dusty yard were quiet as she slung her leg over the side of her still-moving horse and slid to the ground. Three or four years ago, this area to the rear of the manor would have been bustling. Jakku had never been rich, but it had been industrious, at least, and the manor had been the epicenter of all activity.

Now, it was dusty, and dry. She couldn’t remember the last time it had rained. The cattle and goats and horses had dwindled in numbers, succumbing to the drought. People had begun to dwindle too – to old age, or sickness, or they’d simply slip away during the night to eke out their existence elsewhere. Somewhere that wasn’t so dry and dusty and _hot_ , likely.

The old horse groaned with relief when she lifted the saddle off his back. He ambled into the corner of the barn, nibbling at the scraps of hay on the floor. Rey frowned at him, counting his ribs. The years-long drought had made whatever grass grew in the hills wither, and they couldn’t afford barley or oats.

She shook off thoughts of all the things they couldn’t afford – Luke had always managed their finances, and she couldn’t quite mount the courage to look at the ledgers yet, knowing their situation was likely dire – and crossed the yard purposefully. She ducked into the narrow door cut into the limestone walls, shouting for her old nursemaid.

“Maz!” No answer. She wiped sweat off her brow. It was nearly as hot in this, the kitchen, as it was outside. “ _Maz_!”

The short, shriveled woman appeared, to her left, holding a ladle and frowning. She was the one responsible for the ungodly heat in the kitchen – embers were glowing in the fireplace, and a watery stew hung over it, suspended in a pot by a crude iron hook. “Don’t yell.”

“There’s a rider coming from the East.” Rey grabbed the loaf of coarse, brown bread on the counter, famished. As she stuffed a chunk in her mouth, she made a face. Even the bread tasted sandy.

“That was for dinner.” Maz had been the only feminine influence in her life, and although she’d utterly failed at instilling any decorum in Luke’s ward, she’d at least insisted on basic manners.

“He’s riding hard. He’ll be here soon.” Rey spoke through her mouthful. Maz looked like she might scold her for that, but she dropped it, processing this news, instead. A stranger in Jakku was exceptionally rare, and usually it meant nothing but trouble.

“Alone?”

“Alone.” Rey perched on the wooden table as she ate, too hungry to mind the awful taste of the bread.

Maz paused for a moment, deep in thought, and then said, “Clean up. I’ll tell the Peti boys to go meet him at the gate.”

“I’ll go.”

“You’ll clean yourself up for an audience with our guest.” Maz’s tone brooked no argument, but Rey couldn’t resist.

 “Our guest?” She scoffed. “Since when do I entertain _guests_? He’s probably a courier.”

Maz looked almost offended. “Since your father died.”Rey went silent, cowed, and Maz went on. “ _You_ are all that’s left. You are the representative of your father’s house.”

“That’s not women’s work.” Rey murmured, defiantly. She was right – she had inherited her father’s fiefdom, and by extension his serfs and responsibilities as a feudal lord. However, if her inheritance laid anywhere but a remote village in northwest, she’d have been married off to a man who would become the feudal lord before she could even bury her father.

Maz practically growled. “I’ll be damned if I didn’t raise you to be capable of this.” She flapped her hands. “Go. Out of those old leggings.”

Rey obeyed, leaving the stifling heat of the kitchen, and moving down the relatively coolness of the dark, long passageway. Rooms branched off of it, mostly empty or used for storage. Luke’s room was shut up, too. She remained in her small childhood bedroom, unable to accept that this was now her house, and hers alone.

In her room, she stripped off the leggings in question, hanging them on the line by her window to air out. Water was too precious to wash clothes with, or bathe with, these days. She didn’t even wrinkle her nose at the scent of her own sweat, now. The kirtle she pulled from her chest at least smelled somewhat fresh – likely because she hadn’t worn it in months.

She had never liked dresses, and didn’t want to put this one on, now. She stood naked in front of the window, searching the hills for the dark rider.

He was nearing the gates. She saw the Peti boys – the strongest, gruffest boys in town, a wise choice of a greeting committee by Maz – walking towards him. He pulled up his horse, and she could just make out that he wore a dark cowl over his head. She snorted. Not only was he a stranger, then, but he was a stranger from far away. No one from this part of the Empire would think to wear black clothes, let alone a heavy, dark cowl, in this climate.

She wiped her face on the damp rag in a clay dish by her bed, then ran it over her sweaty arms and stomach, realizing the dust and her sweat had made a kind of mud on her skin. Nimble fingers collected her hair, sweat-damped, into three buns, and then, there was not putting off getting into the dress. Once it was on, she knew, she would look as much like a lady as she was ever going to.

It was as bland and sand-colored as her leggings and shirt had been – fitting, for Jakku – but unbearably more hot, with long sleeves and two layers of fabric wrapping around her torso. It felt like they were suffocating her. It was too big, too – she’d never been very big, but these lean years had made her even a little smaller – and she needed to belt it to avoid swimming. As it was, the fabric pooled on the ground and tripped her.

This rider could have come bearing good news, or candy – that rare treasure that merchants sometimes brought through Jakku – and she still would have hated him, for being the reason she had to put on a dress and pretend she knew what she was doing, managing her father’s land. She heard the clamor of the big, wooden front door opening, and the distinctive sound of boots on stone. He was here, then.

Rey hesitated before entering the main hall, feeling like an imposter. She wasn’t even sure how to introduce herself, let alone how to hold an _audience_. Luke rarely entertained guests – as strangers rarely came to Jakku with good intentions – but she could remember a few occasions. She’d always been the child half-hiding behind the doorframe, watching her solemn, bookish father play the role of feudal lord. Now, it seemed, that was her role to play, although hardly an appropriate one for a slip of a girl. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, and moved, as imperiously as she could, into the hall.

If the rider’s shadow had looked like that of a hawk flying over the desert, he looked even more like a bird of prey now. The hall was the largest room in the manor, and he seemed too big for it, tall and swathed in black. She couldn’t miss the broadsword sheathed at his side, even though he’d made an obvious effort to conceal it in the folds of surcoat. He seemed to blot out the sun that streamed through the windows.

This man regarded her in the dim light very seriously, but, to his credit, did not blanche or laugh at her size and age. “My lady.”

Rey frowned. His bow was a bit sardonic. It wasn’t quite deep enough to be sincere, and it wasn’t fast enough to just be sloppy. That, and the quirk of his eyebrow, told her that he was amused to be addressing her as a lady.

She tried to meet his eyes without craning her neck. “What brings you to my village?”

There went his eyebrow again. “Your village?”

“My father is dead.” She kept her voice flat and emotionless, and was quite proud of that. “So it is my village.”

“Then you should have a husband.”

“I do not.” She said it too quickly, too sharply, and then sucked in a breath, wondering if she’d revealed too much. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that a young woman, alone on her fiefdom in the desert, without a husband and protection, wasn’t a tempting target for vagabonds and n’ar-do-wells. And this strange man still had not announced himself.

He seemed to sense her fear, or perhaps he saw her eyes widen and jaw clench. “I mean you no harm. But you will have a husband, my lady. That is why I am here.”

Rey faltered for a moment, confused as to exactly what he meant and fearing the worst – that he was an opportunistic traveler, apprised of her new situation, who had come to marry her and steal her land. “You… you cannot be serious.”

“Your guardian’s last letter was well received in the capital.” The rider settled his hand on the hilt of his sword, as if by habit, and Rey couldn’t help but flinch. “When the Emperor heard that an heir of the great house of Kenobi lived, and alone, in this gods-forsaken place – ” Rey glared at that remark “– he sent me riding here.”

Rey almost laughed, feeling a little relieved that there had been some mistake. “I am – I was Luke’s ward. I am heir to no other house.”

“My uncle never told you of your parentage?” The man looked genuinely surprised.

“Your uncle?”

“Lord Skywalker was my uncle.” The rider suddenly seemed to remember himself. “Forgive me. I haven’t introduced myself.”

“Neither have I.”

“You need no introduction, my lady.” He skimmed his eyes up and down her, sizing her up, and she noticed. “You are Reyna Kenobi.”

“No.” She blew out her breath, exasperated. He seemed to ignore her.

“I am Captain of the Imperial guard.” He inclined his head slightly, as if doing her a courtesy, and it occurred to her that he was imperious by nature. She was trying to exude authority, but that air came to him naturally. “And I am here to deliver a message on behalf of the Crown Prince.”

Rey did laugh, this time, at the sheer absurdity of this conversation. “Oh.”

“He proposes marriage.” The captain looked perfectly serious. When she didn’t react, he added, as if she was not quite bright, “To you, my lady.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Rey burst out laughing.

“Is something funny?” The man looked truly offended, drawing himself up to his impressive full height.

She choked out the words between laughter, whooping in an entirely unladylike way, palm pressed over her mouth to suppress her giggles. “I expected some warlord or another to try and trick me into marriage, but the Crown Prince… that’s rich.” He didn’t share her merriment, and her smile suddenly faded. She went silent. “You’re serious.”

“Perfectly.” His voice was clipped, the voice of someone who was used to giving out orders and being taken seriously.

There was a long silence, and then finally, “ _Why_?”

To her surprise, the man chose his response carefully. “Your parents were politically powerful. Certain factions thought they had a claim to rule all of the Kingdoms, before their deaths. The Empire is…” He was clearly searching for a tactful word. “The Empire has enemies who would see it fall.” He cleared his throat, as if he was embarrassed to have admitted that weakness. “The Crown Prince wishes to silence any dissenters by uniting his house with your own. It would be an advantageous match. For both you and his Highness.”

“Even if what you say is true,” Rey didn’t even bother processing his explanation of why the Crown Prince would seek her out – it seemed more logical that the Gods themselves would handpick her – and just focused on his last statement. She narrowed her eyes at him. “How is this advantageous to me?”

Now, it was his turn to nearly laugh. He did a better job of suppressing it. “You will be an Empress, my lady.” When she remained stony-faced, he tried again. “You can leave this dusty hell and come to Coruscant. You’ll have servants, jewels, finer things than you could ever have here.”

“This _dusty hell_ is my home.” Rey snapped, her attempts to be ladylike forgotten. “And I am all that is left. I won’t leave.” She turned away from him, back arching in on itself as if to protect her from his gaze. She assumed a decorous tone, again, as if that would be more convincing to him. “You may tell the Crown Prince that I must regretfully decline his proposal.”

She heard heavy boots on stone, and his shadow crossed the stone wall before his eyes. He was circling her, like prey. His wide, black-swathed chest, and long broadsword filled her field of vision, and then he bent, his face much closer to hers than she was comfortable with. She begrudgingly raised her eyes and met his, unable to avoid him.

His jaw twitched, either in tightly controlled anger or amusement – she could not tell. He was difficult to read.  “The Crown Prince will not be easily dissuaded.”

Rey scowled fiercely at him. “My answer is no.”

“You are his subject.” He stepped even closer, and she shrank away, instinctively, dwarfed by him. His voice was a low, predatory rumble that reminded her of the dry thunder in the autumn. “And you will obey him.”

She swallowed, hard. This man did not look as if he was easily dissuaded, either. He certainly looked capable of throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her, kicking and screaming, to Coruscant, but he also looked completely annoyed at having to negotiate with her. He had clearly expected her to be to be pliant and grateful – or at least gentile.

He was a skillful negotiator, though. Seeing that she was intimidated but unbroken by his threats, he stepped away and gestured with a black-gloved hand to the window. “These people will starve to death. Or the raiders will come south and burn this village.”

“And you would have me leave them.” Rey found courage in her righteous indignation. “They are my responsibility.”

“You can do nothing for them, here. You are a woman, defenseless and unarmed. You have perhaps five men of fighting age. And you have no money.” He told her flatly, mercilessly. She flinched. His voice softened, became cajoling. “But you are right, they are your responsibility. And if you are their Empress, they will want for nothing.” He saw her react to that, and pressed on. “Wagons full of supplies. Healthy livestock. A garrison of my soldiers to protect them so they don’t have to hide in the hills when the raiders come.”

Rey still didn’t say anything, and his voice dropped lower, almost seductively. “Are you too blind to see that if you have power – _real_ power – you can save them.”

“I am _not_ blind.” She meant to yell; it came out as a whisper.

“Then you are too proud.” He sounded almost pleased by this realization. “You would let them suffer rather than accept.”

Rey struggled with just that – pride – before she spoke. He was right. She was too proud to admit that he had backed her into a corner, an inescapable conclusion. She was too proud to admit that if he wanted to forcibly bring her to Coruscant, she would be powerless to resist. She was too proud to ask for help caring for her father’s fief, even if she knew the straits were dire. And, not least of all, she was too proud to belong to a man. “ _Yes_.”

His lips twitched, with a triumphant half-smile, and she noticed, for the first time, that his eyes were almost black. The recognition that he had won this battle of wills amused him, but it crashed over her like a sandstorm. She stared mutely at his boots as he proclaimed his victory.

“Then you will make a fine Empress.”

***

If his horse didn’t need to rest the night, Rey was sure the captain would have whisked her away the second she agreed, lest she change her mind. The hours she had left in Jakku suddenly seemed too long. It was too much time to second-guess herself, imagining a cruel tyrant and a gilded cage in a city so far away and so unlike her home that she could scarcely imagine in.

She could have filled the time packing her saddlebags, but she hardly had anything worth carrying. Her woolen, gray tunic, for the cold, a scarf to tie around her head in case of a sandstorm, clean stockings. Her books were her most prized possessions, and they were too heavy to carry on horseback. She ran her hands over their spines, regretfully, and picked just one, Luke’s favorite, tucking it in among her spare clothes.

She packed and repacked the saddlebag, nervously, in the candlelight. The manor was silent – Maz had retreated, weeping, to her cottage in the village. The whole house was dark. Candles were too expensive to light a house no one was using. No one would use this house, now. Rey sunk onto her straw mattress, melancholy. She didn’t feel right, having dominion over what she still thought of as Luke’s home, but it shouldn’t be left empty and derelict.

Apparently, though, it was not quite empty. At first, she thought the movement outside her half-open door was just the flickering of her lone candle. Then, it moved again. Rey leapt to her feet, heart drumming in her chest, and threw the wooden door open, stupidly clutching a candlestick as a weapon.

The dark rider looked up at her from the floor, raising his brow, completely unconcerned by the threat of his head being bashed in by a candlestick, and drawled, “Have mercy, my lady.”

She flushed, but didn’t lower the candlestick. “Get out of my house.” She’d all but pushed him out of the front door, not caring if he slept on the streets or in the barn, so long as he was nowhere near her.

“I’m afraid I cannot.” He stretched out his long legs, blocking the hallway, and she realized he’d unbuckled his sheathed sword, laying it across the hall near his hand. His cowl and cloak were pooled under him, as if he was going to sleep on them. She gaped at him.

“Have you been here all night?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even look contrite. “Put that down. I’d like my skull intact.”

Rey started to lower it and then suddenly raised it again, threateningly. “I _disrobed_.”

He managed to smooth out his expression of disgust before she could comment on it. “I have the _utmost_ respect your modesty, my lady.” His eyes flickered down to her leggings. She’d stripped off the dress, balling it and throwing it away like something dirty. If he meant to take her on horseback across the mountains, she’d wear leggings and riding boots. As he ran his eyes down her legs, his tone became more disapproving. “Although you, apparently, do not.”

She ignored that. “Leave me.” He didn’t even blink. “I will not run away in the night, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It crossed my mind.” He crossed his armed behind his head. “But regardless, I cannot leave you.”

Rey growled at his infuriatingly calm voice, and wondered whether all the members of the Emperor’s court spoke like that – military captain or not, there was something distinctly sophisticated and aristocratic about him. “I wish to be alone.”

“And I am charged with your safety, my lady.” He leaned his head back against the stone wall. “So this is where I will sleep.”

“I have been perfectly safe here for nineteen years.” Rey seethed.

“And now you are the Crown Prince’s betrothed.” He didn’t open his eyes. “Your safety is no longer assured anywhere but by his side.”

“No one knows about that.” Rey felt a sinking in her belly, knowing he would contradict that statement.

“Word travels fast, my lady.”

“You mean word travelled before I had even accepted.” She accused.

He did open one eye at that, grinning wolfishly at her. “I told you, the Crown Prince is not easily dissuaded.”

Rey stared at him for a long moment, wondering whether she had ever had any say in her fate, and then turned on her heel and slammed the door, leaving him in the dark hallway.

***

In the morning, when the sun was just a faint, greenish stain on the horizon, Maz silently packed one half of the dusty, cracked saddlebags with food – goat cheese, bread, the last of their dried meat, while Rey paced back and forth through the kitchen. They didn’t speak. Maz was still too angry, and Rey too anxious.

She took the saddlebags, wordlessly, and went across the yard. The rider followed her. He’d stood, like a phantom materializing from the dark, when she’d opened the door to her bedroom. She’d purposefully ignored him, but he shadowed her down the hallway like a wraith.

Rey remained stubbornly silent as she slung the saddlebags over her horse’s back. She heard an exasperated noise behind her, and refused to acknowledge him.

“That sack of bones will not survive the journey over the mountains.”

“Do you expect me to walk all the way to Corscucant?” She gave in to her anger, fingers fumbling the braces of the saddlebags under his hawkish gaze.

“You will ride with me.” He said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She whipped around. To be fair, it was a magnificent horse – so dark a brown as to be almost black, taller and broader than any she had ever seen, with fine long legs and heavily muscled flanks. She daydreamed about being astride a horse like that – but not _his_ horse, holding onto his waist for dear life as they moved at breakneck speed.  “No.”

“Leave the horse here for your beloved _village_.” He sounded sardonic, but his appeal to her loyalty to this village, and its people, rang true. “I assure you, my intentions are pure.”

Rey waited a moment, out of spite, and then unfastened her saddlebags and let them drop to the straw. Without a word, she stalked back to the house, and threw her arms around Maz. They stood there, holding each other, for a long time, and then Maz drew back, smiling for the first time since Rey told her she would be going away.

“I will see you again.” She touched Rey’s cheek with a wrinkled, dry hand. “Send word when you are safe in Coruscant.” She looked around Rey, mistrustfully, at the rider and his readied horse. “Keep your eyes open.”

“I love you.” Rey hugged her again, mumbling into her graying hair. Maz pushed her away.

“Go.”

“My lady.” The captain looked unapologetic about interrupting their farewell. “It’s light. We need to ride.”

Rey stood at the horse’s silken flank, feeling a little burn of humiliation at her size. The ponies and ragged horses in Jakku, she could jump astride despite her small statute. This glorious animal was far too tall for her to mount alone. She resigned herself to accepting his help, but that didn’t prepare her for his hands, large and somehow warm, wrapping around her hips. She flinched, and his grip tightened, as if to steady her, and then he lifted her, easily, boosting her up to the horse’s withers.

He meant for her to sit side-saddled, but she tried to throw her leg over the animal’s broad flanks. The result was an ungraceful tumble down the horses’ sleek rump and into his arms. He barely managed to catch her before she landed flat on her back in the dust.

Rey struggled awkwardly against him as he set her very carefully back on her feet, as if she was made of glass. “You _dropped_ me.”

“You cannot ride like a man.” He said, derisively.

She glared at him. “Why did you think I wore leggings, anyways?”

His mouth twitched, but he grabbed her hips again, without warning and lifted her up, this time complying with her desire to ride astride. “I assumed you were just uncouth.”

“You would insult your future Empress?” Rey allowed sarcasm to drip off her words. That earned a slight smile tilted up at her.

“I never claimed that the Crown Prince is marrying you for your charm and social graces, my lady.” He swung effortlessly into the saddle behind her.

Rey shifted, uncomfortable with their sudden proximity. The horse felt very alive and warm under her, but he felt equally like a wild animal in the saddle behind her. She looked straight ahead, trying not to twitch when his unruly black hair brushed her cheek in the wind. His breath was very warm on her neck when he spoke. “It’s six days’ hard riding to the capital.”

“Plenty of time for you to experience my charm.” Rey muttered, hiding her tear-pricked eyes behind humor. She wanted to twist, turn, and see Maz, see her home, one more time. But he was behind her, trapping her in the vice of his arms, and in any case, she didn’t think she could face him.

He laughed, though, not seeming to notice that her voice was choked. The sound reverberated against her back as he pushed the horse into a canter. He cut straight through the village, not around it, and the people came out to stare along the modest thoroughfare, some of them yelling her name.

Rey stared straight ahead, like a soldier entering battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so gratifying to have people along for this ride (pun intended!). Good feedback makes me so excited to write, which means I write fast - so keep the feedback coming, and I'll keep the updates coming :)


	3. Chapter 3

The low, dusty hills around Jakku gave way to the steeper, rockier foothills in less than an hour. The captain’s horse was nimble, but the rocky terrain slowed him from a gallop to a nervous trot. His muscles coiled and bunched under them as he picked his way across the ground, lifting his hooves carefully.

The horse was stronger than she’d thought, easily bearing both their weights. It was she who was uncomfortable. She’d been riding horses her whole life, but never crammed high up on the horse’s withers in front of the saddle, unable to settle into its back and find a rhythm, and never with a man’s body pressed up behind her, his arms reaching around her to hold the reins. When they slacked, his wrists rested, just barely, on her lower thighs – there was no escaping that. It felt oddly intimate, like an embrace.

He barely used the reins, she realized, when his hands moved just slightly on her legs. He directly the horse almost completely with his legs and seat, and if she hadn’t been trapped _on_ the horse with him, she would think his horsemanship was a thing of beauty.

When they reached the first trickled-down mountain stream, at the bottom of the mountain’s westernmost slope, running narrow and clear over the rocks, the captain slowed the horse and dismounted behind her, and held his arms up, expectantly, to her. Rey frowned at him and dismounted on her own, not caring if she kicked him in the chest. He grunted when her swinging leg caught his shoulder, but grasped for her waist as she slid down, anyway.

“I don’t need you to help me _dismount_.” She ground out, feeling suddenly trapped between the horse’s ribs and his broad chest. She arched her shoulder blades to push him away, and he silently acquiesced.

They filled their canteens in silence as the gelding drank. It was cooler, and more humid, even three hours ride from Jakku. Rey peered down the mountainside, into the desert. She couldn’t see the village, anymore, as if it had been lost to the sands.

“Let’s go.” The captain straightened from the stream, running a wet hand through his hair. “I want to reach the high mountains before nightfall.”

Rey looked back once more at the desert, longingly. “Will it be cold? On the mountain, tonight?”

He made a rough noise of acknowledgement, mounting the horse, and then reached an arm down to yank her up, almost painfully, onto the horse’s rump. She winced and then wound her fingers awkwardly around the back lip of the saddle, to avoid wrapping her arms around him.

The gelding lurched forward, and she squeaked, grasping his belt to avoid falling. She thought she heard a derisive noise, like a snort, and then he was silent the rest of the way up the mountain.

 When they reached the high glacial lake, the sun was setting. The rider seemed to know the footpaths up in the high, thin air, guiding the horse to a rocky clearing by the water and tethering him to the scrubby bushes surrounding it. “We’ll camp here tonight.”

Rey shivered, wrapping her arms around herself watching him set about making a fire. She could have helped him – he wasn’t very efficient, stacking his kindling and branches all wrong, and striking his flint at the wrong angle – but she was too indignant. He’d been silent all day, and it unnerved her.

It was too quiet, up in the mountains. She couldn’t hear any over the steady whistle of the breeze. She had the sensation of being utterly alone with this strange man at the top of the world.

Rey was used to solitude. Growing up as the ward of a solitary, monkish man, she’d never known siblings, or even male playmates. As she’d grown into a woman, that hadn’t changed. There had been perhaps a handful of boys her contemporary in the village, and they’d all avoided her like desert rat. That likely had been because she’d been too busy playing out in the dust, but still, it had been somewhat of a lonely existence, Maz and Luke her moon and sun, but no stars surrounding her. The stars were beginning to peep out from the dusky sky, now, closer than she’d ever seen them before.

She realized, suddenly, that the rider was staring intently at her as he crouched by the fire. The flames lit him in a macabre way, making the already extreme angles of his face almost grotesque. His eyes were very dark and glowed, like a wolf’s eyes glowed when it crept too close to the village.

Rey felt a prickle of fear on her neck, then, when he didn’t break her gaze. She had been a lonely child, and young woman, but she’d never really been alone with a man. She’d been described as a daredevil, but she had a healthy sense of fear when it came to men. Even removed from proper society, in Jakku, she’d been aware of that. When the raiders came, when she was a little girl, ten or eleven, they’d hid in the hills, and she’d known, instinctively, what they would do to her if they found her.  She’d known that there were worse things than scorched stone walls and plundered store-rooms.

The captain rose from the small fire and strode past her to the edge of the mountain, crossing his arms and looking out, as if over his kingdom. She didn’t realize that she’d tensed her whole body in anticipation of an assault until after he’d passed her and she could breathe again.

“Who are you?” She croaked, wondering why it made any difference, if he had lied to steal her away to the mountains and do her harm. It had dawned on her that she might have made a terrible mistake – that was a foregone conclusion – following this stranger into the wilderness with no guarantee of who he was.

His shoulder shifted, but he did not turn. His voice was low but carried, impossibly, over the wind. “The Captain of the Guard.”

Rey scowled at his back, but she couldn’t resist speaking. She always babbled when she was nervous, and now she was doing just that as if throwing the words between them would form a barrier. “What do they call you, Captain?”

“It does not matter.” He tilted his head back to look at the stars.

“I’d like to know.”

“I am your servant.” There was no deference in the way he said it. He almost sounded bitter. “It does not matter.”

“It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I’m your prisoner.”

He turned away from the bleeding tips of the sunset, then, and regarded her instead. His jaw twisted for a moment. “You are not my prisoner.”

“Then…” A thought occurred to her. “I order you to tell me your name.”

“You are not my Empress, yet, either.” His cloak dragged on the ground, catching on stray bushes and roots, as he passed her and went to the shore of the lake.

“When I am, you’ll do as I say.” She shouted after him, feeling a ridiculous and childish urge to stamp her feet. She wasn’t sure what was worse – his predatory stare, or his conscious indifference.

“I’ll do no such thing.” He rounded on her, suddenly looking fierce. “I answer to the Emperor, and the Emperor alone.” When she didn’t respond, he put his gloved finger in his mouth, gripping the leather with his teeth, and aggressively ripping his hand free. The firelight caught the glimmer of a signet ring, bearing a strange seal. It was not the Emperor’s crest, but he thrust his hand in front of her, anyways, making her wonder, for a moment, if he was going to strike her.

“Here is your proof.” Rey stared at the signet, wondering if she was supposed to recognize it, and he hissed, exasperated, between his teeth. “Only the Emperor’s most trusted bear this seal. The Supreme Leader is my master, and my only master.”

“The Emperor will die.” Rey tore her eyes away from the gold ring. It was shimmering seductively in the firelight, the same light that was playing on his face in odd ways again as he loomed over her. She knew it was foolish to be defiant, but if he hadn’t killed her yet, it seemed unlikely that he would. If his devotion to the Emperor was the only thing keeping her alive, then that was also the most sensitive place to strike a blow. “The Crown Prince will take his place. And then _I_ will be your master.”

“One day, the Crown Prince will be Emperor. Yes.” His lip lifted, cruelly. “And you will be _his_ prisoner.”

***

She shivered through the night, the tears on her cheeks feeling like ice. If the captain noticed, he did not say anything, sitting above the glacial lake on a boulder, cloak drawn around him as if he were a black hawk on a perch.

When she woke, she crawled across the hard ground, wincing as she noticed a powdering of snow fall off her legs and back, and rooted in her saddle-bag for food. The rider studiously ignored her, stamping out the coals of the fire and saddling his horse. They rode wordlessly again, along the ridges and spires of the mountains. Rey gazed around them as they rode, thinking that the mountains resembled the illustrations of great cathedrals and castles in Luke’s books.

They didn’t speak to each other again until the third night, when they camped on the eastern slope of the mountains, having begun their descent. The captain suddenly looked sharply at her across the fire, as if something had occurred to him, or as if he realized he had made a terrible mistake.

“Are you a virgin?”

Rey choked on her dehydrated meat. “How dare you –”

“Answer me.” He thundered. When she did not, he growled, “So help me, if you are not –”

“The Crown Prince will not have me.” She breathed.

He caught himself, eyes flashing, and she knew she’d found the link in his armor. She’d felt powerless to refuse – whether she felt powerless to refuse him or the Crown Prince, she could not say – but _this,_ this could be her salvation.

She found herself wishing she’d taken every boy in Jakku to bed – or at least _one_ of them – and her face betrayed her.

“Good.” His anger and self-consciousness seemed to abate, and his fists unclenched, the black leather of his gloves creaking. “You _are_ a virgin.”

Rey looked away, hating her face for revealing that truth. They sat in stony silence, and then she asked, stiffly, “Does the Crown Prince have any other requirements?”

He tilted his head. “Only that you are an obedient wife. And that you produce sons.”

“And if I do not?”

“If you are not obedient, or if you do not produce sons?”

Rey considered for a moment. “Both, I suppose.”

“If you are not obedient, you will learn obedience.” He sounded emotionless, but his eyes trained on her as if looking for a reaction. “And if you cannot produce an heir, the Crown Prince will take a second wife.”

Rey scoffed. Divorce was not completely unheard of among peasants, but even she knew it was considered crass and unbefitting the nobility. “That would be unprecedented.”

“Yes.” The timbre of his voice dropped. “It would.”

She looked at him for a long moment, understanding his implication. “He would kill me.”

His lips twitched. “The Empire has enemies. Perhaps your husband cannot protect you from them.”

The bread in her mouth suddenly felt very dry, and she had the urge to spit it out, or dry heave. Lean years had taught her to stretch her ability to subsist on very little food, but she was almost through with the rations Maz had packed for her. The rider had not shared his food. She could see that it was much finer than hers – fruit, soft, white bread, creamy cheese. He noticed her watching him eat, and deliberately smacked his lips, taunting her.

To her surprise, he did not fall into his characteristic, brooding silence again. “You think that I am unkind, for telling you the truth of your situation.”

“You _are_ unkind.” Unkind was, perhaps, the _kindest_ way she would describe him, now.

He rolled a grape between his fingers. “Would you rather I continue to spin you stories, like I did to convince you to come to accept His Majesty’s proposal?”

“You lied to me.” She shouldn’t have been surprised, but her voice still cracked. “You told me – I could help my people.” Her voice turned bitter.

He threw his leftover food in the fire, just to spite her. “Appealing to your silly sense of altruism seemed easier, at the time, than physically subduing you. A mistake I regret.”

 “I’d rather you had just forced me.” She spat at him, turning away from him and the warmth of the fire, to wrap her arms around her knees. She heard him chuckle, darkly, and then it was silent again.

Rey stared into the blackness, wading through the hopelessness of her situation, towards the glimmer of hope the rider had inadvertently revealed to her. The despair had been acute, at first, and then like a roar in her ears, blocking out rational thought, but as it subsided, she clasped onto hope. She sat awake until the birdsongs starting, the makings of a plan taking shape in her mind. She could not resist the Crown Prince. The rider had as much as told her that she was powerless in the face of his political designs, and she was pragmatic enough to believe him.  

In three days, she would be in the capital and at the Empire's mercy. If the Crown Prince wanted her for his bride, then she would be trapped and unable to refuse him. But, perhaps, she could change what the he wanted. The rider seemed sure that she could learn obedience - or be broken of her spirit, rather - and that if she could not conceive, she would be summarily disposed of. But he he had revealed that her virginity - _that_ was indispensable. That was a key factor in her suitability for marriage. And, importantly, that was the thing Rey still had power over.  

So that would be the thing that would free her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify - I've created a basically irreligious world, but one where Medieval ideas that, in reality, came from religion, are still of utmost importance. Premarital sex and divorce were big no-no's according to the Church, and in our story, are equally as taboo.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, when the captain pulled her up onto her horse behind him, Rey steeled herself, and then wrapped her armed snuggly around his waist. She felt him suck in his breath, surprised, and then he jabbed his heels into the horse’s belly, with more force than was necessary, and they were off. He rode at a breakneck speed down the mountain, and even if she hadn’t had an ulterior motive to hold tightly to him, she would have.

The mountains leveled out to gently rolling foothills, but these hills to the east of the mountain range were far greener and gentler than those Rey had grown up in. In the afternoon, they began to pass cottages and farms dotting the landscape. Sheep grazed grass that was greener and lusher than any she had ever seen. She marveled at the creeks as the horse waded through them.

When their mount stopped, midway through a broad, shallow river, to drink, she leaned down, gripping the rider’s belt in one hand to steady herself. She trailed her fingers rough the clear, cold water, delighted by it.

Their course rejoined with the wide, flat road in the late afternoon, and as the sun set, they rode into a hamlet not much larger than Jakku. It was wealthy, though, and busy. Rey had never seen so many people emerged from their houses at once. The sounds of their voices all at once was almost overwhelming.

The town was of a size to support a small inn. She let the captain lower her off the horse with the strength of one arm outside the half-timbered building, relieved that she would be spared another night sleeping on the rocky ground. Still the prospect of a bed made the plans that had before seemed abstract suddenly more real.

The captain handed the reins to the skinny, pimpled stablehand that appeared at his elbow. The bow practically tripped himself, bowing. “My Lord Ren.”

Rey’s gaze landed squarely on the rider. He avoided her eyes. “I need a second horse. Tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The captain fished into his surcoat and then pressed three gold credits into the stablehand’s palm. “A docile one. For the lady.”

Rey made a face behind him, and the stablehand almost giggled before the captain’s sharp gaze silenced him. “Yes, my lord.”

Rey followed the rider into the inn, trailing on the heels of his cloak. “Your name is Ren.”

He glanced at her, jaw tight. “Do not test my patience.”

“Yes, _my lord_.” She mocked. “I knew you were born to nobility.  You wear those gloves to hide your baby soft hands.”

For some reason, Ren, if that was his name, seemed angry by this observation. “I was born to a traitor and a fool.”

Startled, Rey took a step away from him. Equally alarming as the vehemence in his deep voice was his apparent distaste for his own blood. Most would flaunt this noble birth, but he seemed both furious and somehow ashamed that she had discovered it.

 “My lord.” The innkeeper bowed so low his forehead nearly touched his knees. “A room?”

“Two.” He paused, suddenly, and gave Rey a sideways glance. “One.”

Rey’s anxiety spiked, as if, with that one glance he had read her mind and seen her designs. The innkeeper set off across the common room, towards a dark, narrow hall, and Ren took advantage of their momentary privacy to murmur in her ear, “Do not think you can escape me.”

H gripped her arm, propelling her in front of him as they followed the innkeeper past the trundle tables and to a modest room. He didn’t release her until the door shut behind them, the innkeeper withdrawing with promises of hot water drawn, and ale and food delivered. She stumbled a little when his grip relaxed.

“I will not try to escape.” Rey made an effort to sound subservient, guessing that this was a man who liked obedience from women.

He gave her a long look as he unclasped his cloak. “You are up to something, though.”

Rey flushed. “Perhaps I’ve just resigned myself to my fate.”

“I doubt that.” He dropped the cloak unceremoniously, and unclasped his belt with a little groan, stretching. “I haven’t broken your stubborn steak yet. It seems that honor will be the Crown Prince’s.”

Rey didn’t answer him. “Why didn’t you want me to know you’re high-born?”

That caught him by surprise, as he stripped off his gloves and began to unbutton his surcoat, but he recovered himself, saying derisively, “The idiot innkeeper made a mistake. I renounced my title years ago and am no more a lord than – well, than _you_ are lady.” He smirked.

There was a knock on the door, and a stout barmaid and the innkeeper came in, carrying between them a half-barrel that nearly tipped and spilled over the floor. It was filled with steaming water. Rey stared longingly at it, remembering the last time there’d been enough water in Jakku for a bath. It had been a long time. She could barely remember the sensation of being submerged.

 The barmaid pulled a bar of soap from her apron, dusted lint off of it, and set it down.

“Do you have a laundress?” More coins magically appeared in Ren’s hand, and passed into the innkeeper’s. “And a screen or a blanket to hang up. For my sister’s modesty.”

“My lord.” The innkeeper backed out of the room, grasping the money, and the barmaid followed him, like a lamb.

“Your sister?” Rey gritted her teeth.

Ren turned to her, impassively. “It avoids the appearance of unseemliness.”

Rey glanced at the tub, and then the lone bed, suddenly uncomfortable despite what she had resolved to do – in that bed, in fact. The thought made her scalp prickle. Gingerly, she asked, “Isn’t it unseemly, though?”

Ren cracked a rare smile at that. “You will quickly learn, my lady, that at court, _everything_ is about appearances.” As always, he used her title in a mocking, sarcastic way. She’d grown accustomed to that by now.

“Will the Crown Prince think it unseemly?” She challenged him, hating his smug, aristocratic smile.

That smile faded, and he looked dangerous again. “The Crown Prince knows I am loyal.”

She bit back a retort, one that belied her lack of confidence. _We’ll see._

Another knock, and the innkeeper strung up a sheet between the tub and the rest of the room, stoked the fire, and retreated, leaving a stack of blankets in his wake. Ren barked after him something about _food, now_ , and then gestured at the tub.

Rey glared at him. The stoked fire illuminated the white sheet the innkeeper had hung up, and everything behind the flimsy fabric was clearly outlined, as if in a children’s shadow show performed with puppets. “Do you intend to watch me?” She meant to sound haughty, and to shame him, but her comment had the opposite effect.

“Perhaps.” Ren grinned, showing his canines, and she was reminded again of a wolf. He sat on the bed and then stretched out with a grunt in just his trousers and shirt, booted feet hanging off the mattress comically. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. “Or perhaps you give yourself too much credit. I like to look at women, not desert rats.”

Rey shot daggers at him with her eyes and retreated behind the sheet, a bit of panic settling in her belly. Deciding that self-sabotage was the best way to deter the Crown Prince had been easier. It had been more difficult to stomach the _act_ of sabotage with _him_.  But now that she’d resigned herself to it, it almost irked her that he was so dismissive of her. Her plan might unravel if he truly did find her repulsive, but his derision bothered her on a more fundamental level.  

She sunk deep into the tub, so that Ren could see nothing but the shadow of her head peeping over the rim, trying to clear her mind and calm down. The steamy water caressed muscles that were sore from four days of riding and sleeping on the ground. She didn’t even bother with the soap at first, but when she did, it seemed that years of dirt came off of her skin.

Even with the fire mere feet away, the water eventually cooler. Regretfully, she stood up in the tub without thinking, to rub the traces of soap from her her body. She froze, suddenly realizing what she’d done, and wondered, panicked, if he was watching her silhouette through the sheet.

If he were, that could work to her advantage. Rey only hesitated for a moment – desperate times called for desperate measures. She ran her hands down her collarbone over her breasts, cupping them, and then dragging one hand lower, below her navel.

She heard his breath hitch a little, and knew he _was_ watching.

Emboldened, and heady with the nearness of victory – of _freedom_ – she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, peering around the edge of the sheet. Ren was still laying on his back, hands flat on his abdomen. His chest was rising and falling perhaps just a little too quickly for someone who was actually asleep or on the verge of being asleep.

He must have heard her moving across the room – or at the very least heard her shallow breath, escaping her in nervous puffs – but he didn’t move. She fidgeted for a moment, too awkward to say anything. She wouldn’t even know what to say, in any case.

This was supposed to take place in a bed, she knew, even if her understanding of the mechanics of the act came from seeing animals in the barn or field. But Ren was still wearing boots, and boots did not belong in bed. She tucked the edges of the blanket securely under her arms, and impulsively gripped the heel and toe of one boot, tugged it, meet resistance, and then revealed a black-stockinged foot. She ran her palm experimentally along the top of it, feeling it flex slightly. The small bones just under the skin shifted beneath her fingers, while her other hand cupped his heel. His ankle was relaxed, the weight of his entire leg resting in her hand. Ren was at her mercy.

And, to her surprise, he did not yank his foot away from her, or worse, kick at her throat. He let out a groan that sounded very tired and very relaxed, eyelashes fluttering on his high cheekbones. Hardly believing her luck, Rey caressed the arch of his foot very gently, and then carefully set his leg down on the mattress, reaching for the other, still booted.

He seemed to come to his senses, then, swearing under his breath and sitting up. He looked less like a polished noble playing soldier, and more like a wild animal, with rumpled hair and in a certain state of undress. He bared his teeth at her, a low, wordless growl escaping his throat. He might have been reprimanding her, or warning her to stay away, or it could have been a noise of desire, but it seemed words escaped him.

Likewise, she was silent. She knew if she spoke, she’d sound childish, or, at the very least, inadvertently reveal that she was acting according to a calculated plan, rather than misguided lust. Numbly, she untucked the edges of the blanket wound around her torso, and let it drop onto the floor with a whisper-soft noise. She stood there like a lamb waiting for slaughter, wishing she’d thought to unfasten her hair so it could cover at least part of her body.

“You…” Ren trailed off. He wasn’t looking at her face, but his eyes had all their usual intensity, trained instead on her body. She was suddenly self-conscious of her thinness – her jutting hip-bones and undersized breasts. He’d said he preferred to look at women – and since he was a noble, likely buxom, well-endowed, and well-fed woman with milky while skin and soft hands – and standing in front of him, she felt like anything but a woman.

His voice lacked some of its normal authoritative weight. He almost sounded incredulous – both at her brazen nudity, and that she would chose _him_ to stand naked in front of. “You would dishonor your husband. You would have _me_  betray the Emperor. That… would be unforgivable.” He did not clarify, but Rey suspected that he meant neither of them would be forgiven, if they transgressed in this way. 

She moistened her lips, imagining there might be burn marks all across her skin just from the heat of his gaze. Surely death by the jealous and unforgiving Crown Prince’s hand could not be more painful than this suspense, than the fire in his eyes. “I have no loyalty to the Empire. And he is not yet my husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all your thought-provoking and insightful comments - some of them even give me *ideas*. So thank you! Onwards!
> 
> PS: Will they, or won't they?


	5. Chapter 5

Ren rose from the bed in a fluid motion that was surprising given his long limbs. Lacking his heavy outer layers of black clothing, he was revealed to be almost gangly, with proportions that seemed like he’d never really grown into them. He lurched towards her, unblinking, as if daring her to flinch away first – because he certainly wasn’t going to.

He grabbed Rey by the hair, yanking her forward, and she yelped in pain as he pressed his mouth against hers. She struggled for a second, wildly, almost choking on the slick tongue in her mouth, and then he pulled her hair again. This time he pulled her backwards, breaking the kiss. His breath was very hot on her face, and he didn’t let go of her hair. She tasted blood; he’d bitten her lip.

Rey did shrink back from him, then, horrified by the violence of the kiss. She had perhaps seen a few people kiss, in her life, and those kisses were closed-mouth and brief, like chickens pecking the dirt. She’d steeled herself for sex itself to be awkward and even painful, but she hadn’t expected a kiss to feel like an attack. She hadn’t really expected to kiss him at all.

If this was how this man kissed her, violently and unpredictably, she could not go to bed with him.

He withdrew when he saw the paralyzing horror on her face, letting go of her hair. His face twisted in a strange imitation of vindication and triumph. He knew he’d called her bluff. “You little _chit_.”

Rey felt heat flare to her cheeks. “I – I am not.”

“Did you think you could seduce me?” He sneered. “Did you think that I would forget my loyalty to the Empire because I find a flat-chested brat from Jakku _irresistible_?”

“You _kissed_ me.” Rey bleated, feeling the slipping sensation of a plan gone horribly and irrevocably awry.

“I will admit I thought for a moment that you were stupid enough to commit treason and adultery. I didn’t realize you were just a manipulative little bitch.” She gasped at that comment. “But then you gave yourself away. That kiss was hardly convincing.”

He was mocking her, Rey realized, and she was suddenly even more self-conscious of her nudity. She felt like screaming and pounding on his chest with her fists.

“You kissed me.” She repeated, then added, viciously, and surprising herself with her own viciousness, “ _You_ committed treason. _You_ kissed _me_ and betrayed him.”

He hesitated for a moment, and she knew she’d caught him. She thought about his burning eyes on her naked skin and the way he’d groaned when she took his boot off. And she knew, both from those recollections, and the look on his face, now, that he _had_ wanted her.

She felt powerful, now, and she couldn’t stop herself. “You can say you only kissed me to – to prove I was tricking you, but I know the truth. You would never take that risk, if you are the loyal servant you claim to be.” She met his eyes, squarely. She may have imagined it, but she thought she saw him flinch for a second. Then, he steeled himself and strode across the room, grasping his broadsword from where he’d leaned it by the door.

For a terrible moment she thought he would kill her, and then he fastened his belt. He thrust his foot into his discarded boot, and then reached for his cloak, gathering it around himself, silently, and then turned on his heel, opening the door.

Rey scrambled for the blanket on the floor, to cover herself. “Where are you going?”

“To a whore.” He snarled at her, avoiding her eyes. “Do not think to run. I will hunt you down with dogs.”

His cloak swirled around him in dramatic fashion as he stormed out of the let room, although the effect was somewhat lessened by his near collision with the innkeeper, who narrowly avoided dropping the tray of food he was bringing them.

She considered running away, for long enough that the beef stew got cold. But she was in strange countryside, without a friend or a horse, and she didn’t doubt that Ren would make good on this threats to run her down with bloodhounds. When the fantasies of escape had dulled, she dipped the loaf of bread into cool stew, methodically chewing it to make it last as long as possible. Even cold, it was richer than any meal she remembered eating.

It wasn't long before Ren stalked back into the room, and he seemed no less violently angry when he did. He smelled like ale and brought the cold night air in with him. Rey surmised from this that he likely hadn't found a whore - th thought of his frustration almost made her feel a tinge of vindictive pleasure - and she stared at him defiantly from the place she’d taken up on the mattress, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and her back against the timbered wall.

They maintained a tense silence for a long moment while Ren drained the first mug of ale the innkeeper had brought – Rey hadn’t touched either – and then sipped the second. He stood with his hand on his hip, facing the fire, when he finally spoke. If his voice didn’t sound so menacing, she would have thought he was contemplative from his stance.

“We will never speak of this.” He ran a large hand over his mussed hair, and she thought she saw it shaking. “If the Crown Prince knows that you… offered yourself to me… we will both die.”

Rey felt something tighten in her chest. “He would punish you for my indiscretion?”

“It is my indiscretion, too.” His voice was very deep, and almost mournful. “I apologize. I will never speak of it, and I will never touch you again.”

They were quiet for a moment more, and then Rey ventured, “If we are dead, either way, if the Crown Prince finds out about this, why didn’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?” He turned away from the fire, and she noticed that instead of angry, he now looked tired.

“Why didn’t you bed me?” She had been humiliated enough tonight that she no longer minded speaking bluntly to him.

He paused for a moment. “I _am_ loyal.” He said it as if to convince himself, and then his eyes flickered over the bedsheets. “And he will look for proof, on your wedding night. On the sheets.” When he saw the confusion on her face, he clarified, “Blood.”

“Oh.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Will he hurt me?”

He gave her a strange look, one that made an involuntary shiver run down her spine. At last, he spoke, and his voice was raw. “No more than I would have hurt you.”

Uncomfortable, Rey sunk onto the mattress and rolled onto her side, hiding her face against the wall, half smothered into the pillow. That burning look had flickered back into his eyes for a second, and now, she could feel it, on her shoulder blades and neck.

She heard him move around the room, for a few moments, and then the floor creaked as he lay down to sleep.

“I am glad you tried to disgrace yourself with me, and not some unsuspecting man along the road.” His voice came to her through the dim room. She stared determinedly at the wall. “If you had made yourself an unsuitable bride, then you would have become a political liability.”

“Would he kill me? The Crown Prince?” She hated how self-pitying she sounded.

 “It is likely that task would fall to me.” He admitted that in such an emotionless, matter-of-fact way that Rey’s stomach turned. She pressed her face into the pillow, feeling tears prick her eyes.

Ren was silent again, perhaps giving her some measure of privacy while she cried. When he spoke again, there was something soothing about his voice, but it also seemed as if he was begrudgingly admitting something he’d rather keep private. “I do not want to kill you.”

***

The horse Ren’s gold coins had bought for her was a docile chestnut mare, several hands shorter than his gelding. She snuffled amicably into Rey’s chest while Ren secured the saddlebags, lipping her palm.

“Will she do?” These were the first words he’d spoken to her all morning. They’d eaten porridge in silence before the sun rose, avoiding each other’s eyes.

“She’s fine.” Rey’s eyes flew over to the gelding, who was still stamping his feet and raring to go despite the four-day journey he’d already endured. “I prefer your horse, though.”

“Oh?” He boosted her up into the saddle, and she let him, despite the mare’s shorter stature.

“More spirited.”

He gave her a funny look, and then let go of her lower leg, once her foot was securely in the stirrup. “I do, too. Like a more spirited horse.”

“I thought you’d want an obedient animal.” Rey tried to sound sour, but she couldn’t help but be relief that they could have this relatively ordinary conversation, after the events the night before. He laughed, mounting his horse and miraculously calming it.

“No challenge to that.” He told her, as they trotted out of the barnyard. “I get no satisfaction from bending the weak-minded to my will.”

She wasn’t sure he was still talking about horses, but she also wasn’t willing to consider whether he’d bent _her_ to his will, so she fell silent as they rode.

That night, Ren asked for two rooms at the inn. Perhaps he trusted that she would not run, or perhaps he was afraid that they would fall into the same trap they nearly had the night before. He gave her a stiff nod and retired to his room, without so much as a threat of violence if she disappeared.

Rey sat in silence until it was late, and then she slipped on her boots and leggings, and crept out of her room. The tavern was silent, even the worst ale-drinkers gone or asleep bent over the tables by now. The fires were low and she could barely pick her way through the room to escape into the cold, clear night.

No one was guarding the stable. She looked, longingly, at the gelding, and then thought of the way Ren rode him, the way he silently communicated to the high-strung animal and made him calm and confident. She went into the mare’s stall instead.

“I suppose I should thank you for not stealing my horse.”

Ren stepped out of the shadows, one brow raised, wryly. Rey froze, lowering her hand to hide the bridle behind her back. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re a liar.” He told her, mildly, leaning on the stall door, arms crossed over it. “Where would you go, that I couldn’t find you?”

Rey turned into the horse’s neck, and buried her face there, embarrassed. Her voice was muffled. “I don’t want to marry him.”

He was quiet, sympathetically, and then said, “The Crown Prince – if you please him, he will not be unkind to you.” She looked reproachfully over her shoulder at him, and he insisted, “He is only cruel to his enemies. Do not make yourself his enemy.”

Rey let out a watery chuckle. “I’m not very good at pleasing other people.”

“You’ll have to learn.” He cocked his head at her. “Or your husband will be the least of your worries.”

“What do you mean?” She sniffed, wishing for nothing more than Maz’s root tea and soft hands braiding her hair.

“The Imperial Court is more a pack of wolves than anything. Wolves in silks.” He opened the stall door and came in, taking the bridle from her complaint hands and hanging it back up on the hook by the door. “You will have no friends, and plenty of people who want to see you fail.”

“Is that why you renounced your title?” Rey followed him back into the inn, trailing reluctantly but somehow unable to resist the pull of his quiet authority.

He made a soft noise. “In part.”

“I’m sure kidnapping and torturing _brats from Jakku_ is much more rewarding.” She muttered, as he held open the door to her room, as if it was a cell and he was ushering her in.

“I apologize for that.” His coolness faltered for a second. “Tomorrow we arrive in Coruscant, and I will treat you as my future Empress.”

“I like being just Rey.” She saw him grimace a little at the prospect of acting familiar with her, once they arrived at court. “Perhaps just when we are alone.”

Ren gave her an inscrutable, tender and sad glance. It was fleeting, but it mesmerized her because it was so completely foreign on his hard face. That was enough to distract her as his warm, bare hand moved up to cup her chin for the briefest of seconds. His thumb crossed her lower lip, catching a tear that had spilled there.

“My lady.” He was very hoarse. “I do not think we will ever be alone, again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs quietly to self because Ren is a secret cinnamon roll*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter appears to have double posted - fixed!

Coruscant appeared from the swells of grass, blinding white and sprawled in a crescent shape along an enormous bay. The city’s walls and wharfs tumbled straight into sea’s azure water, as if the residents had run out space and thought the water just as fitting a place to expand as the grasses. To the south of the capital city was the southern mountains, less jagged and harsh than the northern range Ren and Rey had crossed to come from the Far Reaches into the epicenter of the Empire. The expanse of white stone buildings seemed to take up all of the space between the sea and the mountains.

“They call it the White City.” Ren remarked, watching Rey gape from their position atop the crest of the last hill that stood in their way. “But when the sun sets, the white stones catch the light off the sea, and they turn to gold. I used to come here and watch it, when I was – younger.”

“Is this your home?” It had never occurred to her before that this man hadn’t sprung fully formed from the earth, black-clad and hulking. She could hardly imagine him as a boy, and he seemed so at home on the road that she had never considered that he belonged somewhere permanently.

His dark gaze scanned the horizon, as if searching for ships. “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Is this where you were brought up?”

“In a way.” He turned his gaze to her and she thought she saw a bit of the sea’s light gilding his eyes, as he’d described. “But I was born in Alderaan.” He gestured to the water. “Across the sea.”

Startled that he had volunteered a rare nugget of information about his background, Rey studied his profile. He seemed oddly melancholy for a man returning home from a long journey. She wondered if there wasn’t anyone he longed to be reunited with – perhaps, she realized, startled, a wife or a mistress.

“Are you married?” She blurted the question out before she could stop herself. He seemed uncomfortable, and his horse sensed that, shifting and nickering nervously. He stilled the animal and himself.

“I am not.”

“Oh.” Rey said, lamely, made self-conscious about her undeniable need to know the answer to that question. It had been more than a mere curiosity. She wound her fingers into the chestnut’s mane, awkwardly. He cleared his throat, after a moment.

“It’s time to go, my lady.” He’d been decorous all day, as if slipping back into the persona of a member of the Imperial Court more and more the closer they got to the capital.

“Can’t we stay out here until the sun sets?” Rey twisted in her saddle to look at him. “I want to see the stones turn to gold, like you told me.” It was early afternoon, but she would have sat on that hillside for days, let alone hours, to avoid riding into the city.

“Your fiancée is eager to meet you.” Ren flicked his reins and his gelding meandered down the hill, seemingly finally tired out enough to be docile. Rey waited at the top, glumly, and after a few paces he stopped short and dismounted. He walked over to her, seemingly to grab her horses’ bridle and force her to ride into Coruscant. Instead, he stopped at her horse’s flank and held up his arms. “Get down.”

Confused, Rey hesitated, and then swung her leg over the horse and stepped down. He caught her halfway, standing perhaps just a bit closer than he needed to. She slid down between the solid, warm mass of the horse’s belly and the equally solid and warm wall of his chest, slowly. Even once she was on the ground, he didn’t step away. She wondered if he could hear her heart thudding dulling through her shoulder blades, or her pulse fluttering near her hip – his gloved hands lingered there, longer than they needed to. The span of them was almost across her abdomen and back, long fingers splaying out from where they’d cupped to steady her.

Ren swayed for a second, unsteady, and one of his arms moved to the horse’s saddle, bracing there. The other hand curled tighter into her hip bone, almost painfully. But he did not let her go. There was a puff of air, on the protruding bone at the back of her neck, and Rey suddenly couldn’t stand the sensation of being trapped any longer. Even if he had never hurt her, it felt dangerous to turn her back to him, and his grip on her felt equally dangerous – even desperate.

When she turned to face him, wrenching from his hand not without effort, she thought for the briefest of moments that he might kiss her again. His faced was very close to hers, the prominent nose nearly touching her cheek – but then, he pulled away, adopting a mask-like expression. “You need to ride side-saddle into the city, my lady.”

“Right.” Her voice cracked. He hesitated a moment, as if not quite trusting himself, and then abruptly he lifted her backwards onto the horse, his arms stretched out and keeping her body at a distance from his even as he lifted her. He did not even give her a moment to get situated before he let go. She’d worn – under protest – her kirtle over her riding leggings, today. It was a compromise they’d barely been able to reach, and it made her new, akimbo position on the mare even more awkward. She nearly fell off without his hands to arrange her knee over the pommel and feet in the stirrups, but he was already striding away from her and back to his horse, almost breaking into a run.

***

They rode through the city gates without much aplomb. Her kirtle and horse were non-descript, and although it seemed every soldier and guard wearing the Imperial crest recognized Ren, they were either too cowed or too respectful to gawk.

It may have been called the White City, but the colors were overwhelming to Rey, at first. It was late afternoon and people were leaving their trades and homes to mingle, drink at alehouses with windows and doors thrown open to the bustling street, and barter. And it was _loud,_ with a cacophony of voices, mostly speaking or shouting in Basic, echoing off the stone and cobbled streets.

The citizens, too, parted like water for Ren, even if they did not show the same respect and fear the guards did. That was probably a result of his foreboding appearance, rather than his reputation. He’d shoved the metal helm that he’d kept tethered with a leather thong to the back of his saddle onto his head shortly before they’d entered the gates. Wearing it, with his cowl pulled up, he looked more wraith than man. The metal helm didn’t quite match those of the Imperial Guard in style – it was distinctive, almost expressive, rather than a blank slate.

It disconcerted her, to see him, faceless. She wondered why he hadn’t seen fit to wear that helm in front of her, before. He’d certainly sought to intimidate her, before, and this mask would have been an effective way to do it.

The city was intimidating, too, not just for its colors and sounds, but for its sheer size. They seemed to clatter along winding cobbled streets for an hour before they reached the second set of gates. These gates were clearly meant to inspire awe, like the gates to the city, but for a different reason. The outer gates were built to withstand brute force, and to boast of the Empire’s strength. These were covered in gilt vines and intricate carved patterns - they boasted of the Empire’s wealth.

To her surprise, Ren did not hail the guards at that gate. He threw her a look over his shoulder – or at least, she thought he did, through the slits in his helm – and rode past it, along the ivory perimeter walls of the Imperial Palace.

To Rey’s great relief, they rode into the stable yard, rather than the through the front gates and into whatever splendor surely waited beyond it. Even the stables, though, were grandiose. There were endless rows of stalls, each larger and probably better constructed than the average mud-brick hut in Jakku. Countless uniformed grooms bustled back and forth with gleaming animals, and the Imperial pendants flapped merrily in the high wind.

A well-trained groom appeared at their elbow, bowing elegantly. “Captain. And… my lady.”

It was immediately clear that the groom did not know that she was the Crown Prince’s intended. He was looking at her, curiously, albeit clandestinely, because he was in Ren’s presence. She had a wild thought – she wondered if it was really that unusual for Ren to be spotted with a ragged-looking girl. After all, had said that he was looking for a whore, two nights ago, when he’d rejected her clumsy advances.

That was not a question that he would humor, she decided. He didn’t strip off his riding gloves or helm, and the metal distorted his voice as he addressed the groom. “Lieutenant Ygra. Find him. And bring him to me.”

“Yes, Captain.” The groom was clearly not military in any capacity, but, just as clearly, Ren was accustomed to giving orders to whomever happened to be standing at his elbow, and having them obeyed.

He held out his arm, awkwardly, and it took her a moment to realize what he meant by that. “Do you –”

“Yes.” Impatiently, he grasped her hand and wrapped his around his forearm. “I told you. Appearances.”

“I don’t _appear_ to be a lady, right now.” She muttered, feeling almost as though he was dragging her along at his much faster pace.

“That can be helped.” Two guards practically leapt to open the doors for them, and they ascended wide stone steps, their boots on the polished stone the only noise. Once the doors slammed behind the, it was oddly quiet in the lower belly of the palace. They rose up from the depths into wide, white corridors lit with windows taller and wider than doors. The hallways were curiously empty, like catacombs or tombs. Endless doors and courtyards passed on each side, but they did not pass a single soul.

Ren drew close to one door, in particular, just when Rey had begun to marvel at the size of the palace. “These will be your private apartments.” He inclined his head to the doors. “Guards will be posted immediately, for your safety. And so this is where I leave you.”

Panic gripped her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the guards were more to secure her imprisonment than to secure her safety. “You cannot leave.” She reached for his surcoat, frantically, to keep something familiar near her in this strange maze of halls, and he stepped out of her reach, holding a hand up. “Please do not leave me alone here.”

“My lady.” Ren paused, and then reached up and unfastened his helmet. The sight of his face was somehow reassuring; perhaps that had been his intention. “You will not be alone.” He gave a long look. “Hear me. You will _never_ be alone, here. You will have guards, and ladies in waiting, and handmaidens. None of them are your confidants. They will report to the Emperor everything you say, and do.”

Rey swallowed. “You will keep – we agreed not to speak of –”

“I did.” He cut her off, as if unwilling even to reference that night. “And I will. But trust no one else.”

Feeling a terrible sense of betrayal and abandonment, Rey scowled blackly at him. “I do not trust you.”

A smile flickered across his lips. “You _are_ learning.”

***

Rey’s senior handmaiden was named Elzy and she was nothing like Maz. She was young and stout, dressed in a black dress with a neat Imperial crest on her breast, and she headed up a team of four women tasked with bathing, primping, dressing, and sewing for the future Empress. All of them looked fearsome, like soldiers readied for battle of some kind.

Rey was soon to find out that this _was_ a battle. There was an entire room in her apartments devoted to bathing and it could only be described as opulent – with sleek marble floors, narrow slits for windows, and heavy rugs to catch any moisture from her feet when she stepped from the water. Privately, Rey thought the basin itself looked like a horse trough, wide and long enough to lie down and sleep in.

The women stood around, expectantly, and Rey realized, with horror, that they meant to bathe her, like a child. Humiliated, she stripped off her kirtle and leggings – they were taken away, probably to be burned, and she mourned silently – and she sank into the water. It was blessedly hot and perfumed, and the swarm of servants wasted no time smothering her in soaps and lotions.

When they deemed her clean enough - which took longer, and took more force with a scrubbing brush, than Rey had ever thought possible – she was wrapped in soft white robes and let to roam her new dominion while the handmaidens altered a gown that would clearly be much too big for her.

The suite of rooms was in itself as large as Luke’s manor house. It was spread out as if in layers – she walked from one room and inevitably there was another. Alarge and mostly empty antechamber, an expansive sitting room, a bedchamber, the room that seemed, wastefully, just for bathing, and a small library – sadly devoid of books. The rooms each connected, one to the other, forming a circle around a pocket-sized courtyard that overflowed with fruit trees and flowers. Rey was more entranced by the greenery than she was by the finery surrounding her. The rooms were luxurious – so much that they didn’t seem real, cavernous and sterile – but the garden felt like a window to freedom.

Thankfully, it seemed her small army of torturers – the handmaidens – would not share her apartment. There was only one bed, and while it certainly looked large enough to fit ten handmaidens, she would be alone. As much as the servant’s attentions made her uncomfortable, Rey did not want to be alone in these rooms.

 She went out into the garden and looked up into the sky. The palace rose several levels above that of her courtyard, and she was suddenly aware of the seemingly hundreds of windows set into the four stone walls that framed her view of the sky.

It felt that there must be someone watching from every one of those windows, waiting for her to flee, or cry, or make a fatal mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we enter the world of the Imperial Court, there's necessarily going to be quite a bit of world-building. That said, I will make every effort to keep the plot moving and not get bogged down in too much description and detail. Our girl is in a whole new world - and it's not totally clear what Ren's role in that world is. Muahaha!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand... finally, we get Ren's POV!

Kylo Ren stood outside the door to his future Empress’s apartments until the first guards posted there. He couldn’t hear through the door – the thick oak doors and the monumental stone walls they were built in to muffled nearly all sound, even in a palace home to upwards of five-hundred people – but could imagine there was a flurry of activity going on.

That girl would require a small army of maids, with an arsenal of silks and perfumes and face paints, to look like an Empress. Not that she would submit gracefully to such indignities. He almost grinned, wondering if four maids would have an easier time stamping out her propensity for contrariness than he had. She would most certainly resist being made presentable.

But first, she’d require a bath. His traitorous mind could envision _that_ scene with particular vividness – or rather than envision, he could remember.

She was not the type of woman he’d normally look twice at, and if it weren’t for the accident of her birth into the Kenobi bloodline, and the accident of her _survival_ when their lands burned, he doubted anyone would have. She would have lived an unglamorous life befitting her ordinary appearance.

But now he had _seen_ her, and he could not unsee her. He had seen her in the flesh, and that was branded in his memory despite his diligent attempts to purge it. But he had also seen that she was prideful, and strong-willed. He had seen that she feared him, but she still – stupidly – provoked and challenged his every move, uncowed. She’d been cunning enough to try and sabotage her own engagement. She’d been fiercely protective of her home – bedraggled and awful though it was, he still hadn’t gotten all of the sand out of his clothes – and he’d seen a glimmer of desire in her eyes when he’d spoken of _power_.

She had not been the shrinking sycophant he’d expected her to be – delicate and lovely but lacking any will to fight or determine her own fate. She hadn’t been _anything_ he’d expected.

That made it harder to wipe his hands of her. He knew that she was a _completely_ unsuitable match for the Crown Prince – she needed a husband who could humor her contrariness, unthreatened by her fiery personality, but who had the iron will and raw power to control and dominate her. He thought of the way she’d admired the way he could control his high-spirited horse, and he thought she was like that horse – a barely contained whirlwind of spirit and stubbornness, but a beautiful and useful creature, with the right master.

Those thoughts, even if completely private, were forbidden, and they sent a searing shame down his spine. Rather than entertain the traitorous thought that a girl like _that_ needed a man – or a master – like _him_ , he focused instead on her unsuitability for Hux. That line of thinking was still probably traitorous, but it didn’t inspire the same twist of guilt.

Ren could not help but privately refer to the Crown Prince by his own name. They had grown up together, Ren always stronger, taller, and more ready to pick a fight. Whereas Hux had been better at chess and languages, Ren had thrashed him in the boxing ring and with fencing poles.

Ren had been equally more successful when they’d outgrown boyhood and started pursuing women. Even if he was sullen and serious, women liked the look of him, and they liked his dark confidence. Hux, given his birthright, should have been the one to exude power and attract women, but it simply wasn’t so. He always seemed uncomfortable, and stiff around the opposite sex. He wasn’t unkind to them, per se, and his status ensured that he could find a woman when he wanted one, but he didn’t seem to enjoy their company – or them, his.

Hux also lacked patience, and since he didn’t have the force of personality to subdue a disobedient woman, he would quickly lose patience with one. Ren felt a nervous twist in his gut, knowing that would be inevitable result when Rey displeased him. Rey would fail to act like a loyal subject and wife, and Hux would become angry. If Ren’s anger was like a storm – furious and destructive, but passing quickly if given an outlet – then Hux’s was like ice creeping up a river and staying for the winter. He would not scream and shout, but his punishment would be cold, long-lasting, and calculated to humiliate and pain her.

When Hux and Ren had been sixteen, their paths had diverged dramatically, in an instant. No one would guess, now, that they had been boys together – Ren served the Emperor and treated Hux with the appropriate respect of his future liege, but nothing more. But he knew enough about the Crown Prince – and, importantly, he knew enough about his bride apparent – to sense impending catastrophe.

Two guards, in crisp white and black, came, walking in perfect unison, down the hallway. Ren didn’t wait for them to bow and assume their positions. He turned on his heel, left the girl to her fate, and left his treacherous thoughts behind.

***

The Emperor was in his private garden, looking much more like an invalid than he would ever allow himself to look in front of the Imperial Court. He was perched on a heavy, ornate wooden chair that had been dragged outside, drawn up under black velvet robes as if shrunken with age. His eyes were very alert and bright as he examined, intently, the fish that swam in his fountain.

His two bodyguards parted for Ren, as had the two posted at the door to the Emperor’s private chambers. The Emperor glanced languidly over at him as he approached and sunk onto his knee.

“Your Imperial Highness.”

“Well?” The Emperor cut through any formalities. “Come. Sit and tell me.”

Ren rose from his knee and sat, a respectful distance away, on the edge of the fountain. He intended his assessment to be professional and unaffected, but somehow, he heard himself saying, “She is splendid.”

The Emperor raised a brow, the expression distorting a face that had been horribly scarred in the wars he fought to unite the Kingdoms. “She is beautiful?”

“Not… in the traditional sense.” Ren hedged. “But she is proud and… noble, in a way. You can see that she has the blood of Kings.”  

“You mean she is headstrong.” The old monarch did not look pleased, and Ren realized how badly he’d misspoken. In the back of his mind, he knew what the Emperor had hoped for: a submissive, silent wife to his son, who would quell the voices of any who would see power usurped from the House of Snoke and placed on the shoulders of some other ancient family – the Kenobi line, for example. And, just as importantly, she had to placate the kriffing _Republicans_. 

“She does not have political leanings, Your Highness.” Ren lied, trying to repair the damage he had done. “And she came willingly. She can be obedient.”

The Emperor eyed him. “She was not obedient to you.”

“No, but I am not the Crown Prince.” Again, Ren found himself defending her, trying to avoid his master’s wrath from coming down on her unsuspecting head. She knew to fear the Crown Prince, but she did not know that he was the mere puppet, and the Emperor was the architect of her destiny. Ren preferred that he remained a distant and benevolent architect.

“You liked it.” The Emperor leaned back, looking at Ren as if he had discovered a treasure and wanted to admire it. “Her disobedience.”

“No.” Ren thought about her defying him, and lied. “I tolerated it, my lord.”

Mercifully, the Emperor turned his gaze to the pond. “My son does not appreciate the same things in a woman that you do.” He cocked his head. “He will not find her as charming.”

“She is incapable of being charming, my lord.” That, at least, was true.

The Emperor let out a barking laugh. “Perhaps they are well suited, then.” He stood, laboriously. “But even if not… if she has a son, my lineage is secure. I can die with some measure of certainty that my incompetent son will not be usurped by pretenders from the North or Republicans.” He drew himself up to his full height and flicked off his dark robes, and, at last, looked like an Emperor. “Come. Let me meet my little princess.”

***

If the palace had seemed silent that afternoon, as the sun began its final descent below the Western Sea, it came to life. The entire Court descended on the throne room, lining the center aisle in throngs. They’d dressed in their best clothes, Ren noticed – he himself had changed from riding clothes into a finer tabard and boots, but he’d retained his austere black and military aesthetic. He tried to picture the girl in clothes like the women who surrounded him wore, and could not. She would be snickered at later, for her appearance, and that thought was almost unbearable, for some reason.

Everyone fell silent as the Emperor and the Crown Prince entered the room. The hush did not break as the Emperor took his throne, and the Crown Prince stood, looking somewhat bored but still, somehow, severe, at his right elbow. Ren took his own place, behind the throne, on the Emperor’s left, by habit scanning the crowd, hand lingering on the hilt of his sword.

A few whispers broke the silence, and then the cracking sound of the big doors opening.

Ren regretted forgoing his helm. He knew he was staring, although, thankfully, everyone was. He’d expected the Court’s curiosity, but he hadn’t expected Rey to dazzle them.

The gilded evening light that he was so fond of streamed through the high clerestory windows, but it didn’t seem to bathe the room equally. Perhaps it was the gold embroidery covering her gown, but she was haloed in light. She didn’t look particularly fashionable – the long-sleeved gown was cut plainly, lacking the frills that were the fashion – but that made her appearance even more striking, somehow. The white silk had obviously been a nod to her purity, but it was nearly entirely covered by intricate gold threadwork. The effect was that she looked like a mythical creature risen from the seafoam, more a fairy or a sprite than a virginal bride.

She stood stock still in the doorway, trembling like a leaf, and then began a slow march to the dais. At first, her eyes trained on the Emperor – the room was designed, after all, so that this was inevitable – but then locked with Ren’s.

He was glad he had not worn the helm, then. He gave her a tight, reassuring nod, and then smoothed his face into the faint scowl he was known for. The Emperor leaned over, just slightly, bracing on the arm of his throne. That was Ren’s signal to step closer and bend at the waist – he was being addressed. He bent and listened, but his eyes remained trained on the gilded girl, and her ascent to the dais.

“You said she was not beautiful.”

“I misspoke.” Ren murmured. “Are you pleased?”

The Emperor raised his voice, turning his attention to his son. “Is my son pleased?”

The Crown Prince looked away from his future bride, and turned to his father – he was the only one in the room who had managed to do that. “She is… unique.” 

“She is.” The Emperor stood, only a little tenuously, clearly expecting Rey to fall to her knees. She had a brief moment of confusion, glancing at Ren. He jerked his chin to floor and she understood, falling to her knees. The Emperor seemed pleased, looking at his son expectantly.

The crier’s voice echoed throughout the hall – the introduction was to the Emperor, but it was intended for all to hear. “Your Imperial Highness. I present Princess Reyna Kenobi.”

The Emperor gave a slow, magnanimous nod, and Hux extended his hand. She hesitated, and then rose to her feet. Ren watched her throat bob as Hux kissed her hand.

“You have travelled a great distance to grace us with your presence, princess.” The Emperor leaned forward.

Rey seemed to find her voice, and when she spoke, Ren had to hide a smile. She hadn’t lost all her brash courage, then, in the face of this show of splendor and might. “If I am a princess, then I am princess without a kingdom.”

The Emperor looked appraisingly at Hux, who nodded his assent, and then spoke, softer now, so that only those on the dais could hear. “Perhaps. But soon, you will have a whole Empire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, our boy's got *feelings* - but it seems that marriage is inevitable and that Hux is, well, Hux. Let me know your thoughts, criticism, and guesses as to where we go next! I so appreciate any feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

The Crown Prince’s engagement was announced the next day. The wedding would take place in two weeks, in enough time to allow for preparations, but before anything could disrupt the union. This news came as a shock to no one at Court – after Leia Organa’s letter, sent by her brother on his deathbed, had been intercepted by the Imperial Guard, tongues had been set wagging. Then, Kylo Ren’s absence from the Emperor’s side had been notable, and word had been that he’d gone riding to collect the new Princess.

The gossip hadn’t quieted upon Rey’s presentment to her fiancé, the Emperor, and the Court. If anything, it grew worse by the day. The girl was strange, people murmured. She was withdrawn and unsociable, but kind to her servants. She wore out-of-fashion gowns, but started trends regardless. Half the men at Court loved her; all the women hated her. In short, she was a sensation, stared at everywhere she went.

Ren had only seen her himself twice, in the week since the engagement was announced. He’d seen her first with Hux, having tea in the Emperor’s gardens. She was dressed the part of a court lady in a wine colored dress, so that he barely recognized her, but she looked wan, as if she hadn’t seen the sunlight or slept. Hux looked equally uncomfortable, and Ren surmised that the Emperor himself had invited her to join them, rather than Hux.

“Ren.” The Emperor rose from his chair. “Leave them alone a moment and tell me about Dathomar.”

Ren followed him dutifully to report on the insurrection that had been quashed in the South that morning, but not before he thought he caught Rey’s beseeching glance. She didn’t look defeated, yet, by the inevitability of her marriage, but he chose to ignore her. He could not engage with her in public, let alone in front of her fiancé and his master, afraid that he would betray his traitorous affection for her.

He’d thought it was simple lust – traitorous but easy to assuage with the company of another woman. But it was not. He knew that, when he saw her taking tea with Hux. He hated to see her with him, even if they sat stiffly away from each other. He hated the fact that in a week, Hux would take her into his bed and call her his wife.

The next time Ren saw Rey, he was more shocked by her company. She strolled the wall walk with Leia Organa, leaning into the high winds, looking every few steps over the battlement and out at the city, as if longing to escape the high walls of the Imperial Palace.

Leia Organa saw him before Rey did, but she kept her face admirably neutral. “Ben.”

Ben ignored Rey’s expression of confusion and gave a half-bow – a true sign of disrespect in their social circles. “My lady. The Princess should not be without her guards.”

“There are guards posted every fifteen feet.” Leia said, mildly, her arm looped through the younger woman’s arm. The wind flapped their skirts and mussed their hairstyles. “Regardless.” Ren held out his arm to Rey, pointedly. “I will escort the you and the Princess both inside, where she will be safe.”

Rey hesitated and then took his arm. Leia made a soft, disappointed noise. “You are afraid I will poison her mind with my Republican leanings?”

“Oh, I _know_ you will poison her mind.” Ren kept his voice as studiously polite and neutral as Leia’s. “But perhaps you would refrain from treason and foolishness if she were accompanied by her bodyguards.”

He all but tugged Rey away, then, hoping the older woman would not follow them. She did not, waiting a moment, and then walking back to the far parapet, clearly having no desire to continue her conversation with Rey if Kylo Ren was going to chaperone it. All the better for Ren; he had no desire to speak to her if he could avoid it.  

“I am not a child.” Rey chastised him the moment they were out of earshot, and Ren he bit back the instinct to snap back at her.

“I am unwilling to risk your safety for an unchaperoned jaunt on the ramparts.” He ducked into the spiraled stair inside the tower, to descend down into the gardens that separated the high stone walls from the more luxurious palace compound.

“You are unwilling to risk the Emperor’s political agenda.” Rey’s impertinent comment echoed in the stone stairs.

“Leia Organa did fill your head with her nonsense, then.” Ren frowned, taking the narrow, spiraled steps a little too quickly for Rey in her voluminous skirts. She nearly tripped over them, and stopped, trying to untangle her feet to avoid crashing down the steps.

“She is your mother, isn’t she?” Rey changed the subject, her question sounding more like an accusation. Ren stopped, whipping around in the confined space. It was dim, lit only by thin slits in the tower walls. She was glaring at him, arms crossed over her chest, looking for all the world like a petulant child.

“Did she tell you that?”

“She told me she was Luke’s sister. You told me that he was your uncle.”

“He was.” Ren admitted it grudgingly, regretting that slip-up from two weeks ago.

“So she is your mother.” Rey sounded triumphant. “Is that why she calls you Ben?”

“She is my mother by blood only.” Ren chose to ignore her question, and hope she dropped it. He hated hearing that name, let alone from her lips or his mothers. He stepped closer to her, and even a step beneath her, he towered over her smaller frame. “I did not lie when I said I was born to a traitor and a fool.”

“Is she the traitor, or the fool?” She challenged him, tilting her chin up defiantly – even _imperiously_ , he thought, with an unwarranted twinge of pride and admiration.

“The traitor.” Ren bared at his teeth at her a moment. He turned on his heel and stomped down the steps, annoyed by this revelation. He preferred the secret of his lineage to remain a secret, despite Leia’s somewhat regular sojourns to the Imperial Court. He always ignored her, treating her as a stranger every time she came from Alderaan – he had done so since he’d been a teenager. “You would do well not to associate with her.”

“She is kind to me.” Rey grumbled, as they emerged into the light. “And so few people are.”

“Who has been unkind to you?” The danger in his voice surprised even him. Rey seemed taken aback, as well. For a moment, Ren feared that the answer to that question was _the Crown Prince,_ because there was nothing he could to remedy that.

“People stare at me.” She said, finally, and his shoulders relaxed. “They look at me like I’m – like I’m a strange new toy the Emperor has collected. But they don’t care to hear what _I_ have to say, or what _I_ want. No one does. I’m surrounded but no one speaks to me.”

“They look at you with envy.” Ren was satisfied. “They will all bow to you soon.”

“I want a friend.” She followed him into the palace, her voice plaintive.

Ren barked out a laugh. “You will have your husband.”

“You know perfectly well he doesn’t speak to me, either.” Rey murmured, and Ren felt a flash of relief at that. He knew Hux did not woo women easily, but nonetheless, he didn’t like to imagine him trying. “I am lonely. And bored.”

He remained silent, and she dropped the subject as they passed a group of nobles. He did notice the looks they gave her, then – wide-eyed, curious ones. They arrived at her apartment. Ren held open the door to her cage, and she gave him a reproachful look, and then entered.

Ren had responsibilities to attend to – pressing ones – but he left her in the care of her guards, crossed the palace, and sought out, for the first time in years, Hux.

***

The next morning, Rey was summoned by a courier from across the palace. That peculiarity made her laugh - in Jakku, a courier was only an expense worthwhile for long distances, but in the sprawling palace, couriers regularly carried correspondence from hallway to hallway.

Her guards escorted her to the stables, to her great surprise. She’d hadn’t been permitted into the underbelly of the palace since her arrival. Her time was spent almost entirely confined to her apartments, unless she had a private audience with the Emperor and the Crown Prince, or one of her ladies in waiting gentle prodded her to attend some womanly social event. It was difficult to say which of those two excursions was most uncomfortable.

The Crown Prince and Ren stood in the yard, somehow looking very familiar and very uncomfortable in each other’s presence. Ren’s thumbs were hooked in the back of his belt and he was wearing riding clothes, but Hux still wore his finery. He gave her a stiff, almost nervous smile, and she curtseyed, automatically. She could not understand her fiancé on any personal level, but he seemed to treat her with detached civility if she used the appropriate formalities and deference, so she did. “My lord.”

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and a groom walked a filly over to them, fighting the animal all the way. She was an exquisite beast, silvery dappled gray and large even at a young age. Her legs were long and seemed to shift with constant nervous energy. She grunted excitedly, and Rey could see that she wanted to _run_ , that it was simply in her nature to do so.

“Ren told me you are unhappy, here.” The Crown Prince sounded halting and awkward. Rey glanced at Ren, confused by this admission. The black-clad knight seemed fascinated by the dust on his boots, staring down at them with his hands clasped behind his back. The red-haired prince went on. “I would have given you jewels, to make you happy, but Ren told me you very much admired his horse. This one is from the same broodmare and sire.” He gestured at the filly. “So she is yours, against my better judgment.”

Rey looked between the two men, scarcely knowing who to thank. Ren continued to examine the ground, so she turned to her fiancé. “My lord. That was… very kind of you.”

She didn’t have to fake the sincerity in her voice, even it was meant for Ren’s ears and not the Crown Prince’s. Her fiancé had spoken to her perhaps three times since their engagement, each time seeming disinterested and uncomfortable. Even if he had not revealed as much, she would have known gifting her a spirited young horse was not his idea.

“She’ll have to be broken before she’s suitable for a lady to ride, of course.” The Crown Prince nodded to the groom, who led the horse away far too soon for Rey’s liking. “Perhaps in a year she will be docile under the saddle. But in the meantime, she is lovely to look at.”

Rey watched the filly go, heart sinking at the thought of the horse becoming a docile lady’s mount.

 “Keep her wild, for me.” She heard herself saying. She felt Ren’s eyes burning into the back of her neck, and the Crown Prince looked confused. “I will not ride her, if you think that’s best. But it would break my heart to see her broken.”

Hux laughed, turning to Ren. “You told me she liked horses, Ren, not that she was silly for them.”

“She is soft-hearted.” Ren’s voice was a low rumble. “Humor her, my lord.”

“All right.” Hux turned to her, with a princely nod, seemingly satisfied that he had given her everything she could ever want. “You may keep your wild little pet.”

***

The night before her wedding, Rey did not sleep. An hour before sunrise, she slipped from her bed, padded to the door, and asked her guards to bring Kylo Ren to her. He was there in remarkably short measure, fully dressed and looking entirely alert, as if he had not slept, either.

“Will you ride out with me?”

“My lady.” He shifted on his feet, clearly wondering if she wanted to escape on this, her wedding day.

“I know I cannot go alone.” She interrupted him. “So I summoned you. Just one hour. Ride out with me.”

They rode out of the city by way of the back alleyways, avoiding the early morning fishmongers and tradespeople. The crescent shaped beach that extended along the bay was rocky and narrow, but wide enough that they gave the horses their heads and let them run.

Ren did not criticize her decision to ride astride, her bare legs indecent in the watery early morning sunlight, her skirts tucked up around her saddle. She needed to sit astride, in any case, to keep her seat on the horse.  The dappled gray filly was as fast and flighty as she looked, easily keeping stride with Ren’s gelding. She was not a lady’s gentle mount, but the sibling horses were a well-matched pair, thundering across the flat-packed sand and through the shallow surf, splashing water up onto their riders.

***

When the sun rose, Ren pulled up his horse. He caught his breath, and then lost it again, watching Rey wade her filly into the tidewaters to cool. Her hair was wild from sleep and the sea breeze and riding hard, and she looked lovely, if melancholy. Her white skirts – she’d just put on a jerkin and riding boots with her sleeping clothes – were wet, clinging to the muscles of her slender legs. The water made the fabric translucent. If she hadn’t looked transcendently beautiful, like a sea nymph, on the dapple gray, he would have thought lustful thoughts, rather than worshipful thoughts.

After a moment, she rode out of the surf, her legs and skirts soaked. She settled her horse, now tired and compliant, beside his, nose to tail, so they could face each other. Their knees nearly brushed.

“You will be married today.” Ren said it, lamely, to convince himself that this proximity was ill advised.

“To your Crown Prince.” She didn’t break his gaze. “And I will be your Empress.”

“Well, first, my Princess.” He conceded. “But yes. One day my Empress.” He hesitated for a moment, looking down the beach at the capital city. “But I will be your servant, my lady, when you are Empress.”

She turned her bright eyes on him, when he looked back at her. They were wet with unshed tears, but her jaw was set. He was overwhelmed by her tragic resolve, and her bravery. He had fought wars and guarded against assassins, but he never had considered that something as mundane as marriage could require courage or sacrifice. Now, he knew that it could, and he admired her immensely.

“You will serve my husband.”

“No.” Ren leaned forward in his saddle, impulsively, bracing against his stirrups, and reached for her cheek. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and pressed a dry kiss to her forehead. “I would be yours, and yours alone.”

He did not bother to disguise the implication - he would be hers, in every way, if he could.

He'd intended the kiss to be chaste, even brotherly - despite his most secret inclinations towards her. He was in equal parts elated and dismayed when Rey tilted her face up and met his lips, tasting like saltwater and wind. The kiss was entirely unlike the one he'd forced on her at the inn -  it was unhurried and unguarded.  She didn't know how to kiss him, just pressing her lips to his and holding them there, but she felt soft and warm, and she waited for him to show her how.

He'd only just parted his lips when she pulled away, yanked the reins, and dug her heels into the filly's sides, galloping back towards the city, and her fiance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh la la, someone's committing some treason. I have some pretty interesting reveals and some *adult* material planned for the next few chapters, so stay with me and have faith that all this UST/angst/slow burn will turn out okay, folks!


	9. Chapter 9

The marriage of the Crown Prince was a festive and heavily guarded affair. It was odd to see helmed and armed soldiers interspersed with nobles and royalty in their finest. The light twinkled off of naked blades and jewels alike.

Normally, such an event – and the security risks it posed – would have set Kylo Ren on edge, likely screaming at subordinates and stalking the perimeter like a wild animal, avoided by all. Today, though, he was thankful for his helm and seemingly endless tasks. He was grateful that when the bells rang out from inside the Imperial Palace, a joyous peal that marked the completion of the marriage ceremony for all of Coruscant to hear, he was outside the heavy gilded doors, atop the palace ramparts with the archers. He looked down at the streets and square outside the gates; they were packed full of citizens on their holiday.

The bells and cheering seemed to go on forever.

Ren could have joined the revelries that began after the wedding bells stopped, delegating his responsibilities to his lieutenants upon threat of death if anything went wrong, but he didn’t. There would be wine and food and plenty of women willing to dance with him – or willing to slip away to his quarters with him – but he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate. He stalked the upper parapet near the rafters of the banquet hall, watching the swirling skirts and sending pages and guards scurrying. He’d foregone his helm and his face was fearsome, to say the least. He wore the black of mourning, looking like a hawk perched above a mass of colorful songbirds.

As usual, the Emperor was seated at the highest and most central place in the hall, above the dancing crowds and long, elegantly dressed banquet tables. But now, the new Princess had joined him and his son on the dais, and for once, someone else commanded the room’s attention. Rey sat still as a statute, seeming small in her voluminous sky silk skirts. The new glimmer of a diamond tiara was tucked into her ornately braided hair. She’d worn the traditional pale blue of a bride, her bodice and sleeves adorned with silver embroidery, sewn in patterns that resembled ice creeping over a lake.

There was no trace of the hellion girl who’s sprinted her barely saddle-broken filly down the beach in her nightclothes this morning. She looked imperious, scanning the crowd with her hands folded on her lap. Ren wondered if she was looking for him.

Her chair – ornate but, importantly, not a throne, because only the Emperor sat on a throne in the Empire – was placed next to Hux’s. Hux was slouched a little, drinking at a remarkable pace, and looking anywhere but at his wife. Ren studied him, wondering how much he’d had to drink. They’d discovered alcohol together, as eleven-year-olds, and Hux had reliably gotten completely snockered every time they imbibed.

Perhaps the Crown Prince was working up his courage to take his wife to bed. Ren’s gloves creaked as he gripped his broadsword, reflexively. He wondered if this was what he would be relegated to, for the rest of his miserable existence – watching her from afar, being a diligent observer of her life, privately hating her husband, but publically swearing fealty to her husband.

Two of Rey’s ladies in waiting approached her, bending to whisper in her ear. She scanned the crowd one more time – if only she would look _up_ – gave a slight nod, and stood. Ren’s stomach tightened. He knew what that meant – she would leave her own wedding banquet early, to retire to her bedchamber and wait for her new husband.

***

Rey had been aware of the weight of eyes on her all day. It was suffocating, almost as heavy as her wedding gown and jewels. This dress was by far the most beautiful she had ever worn, and she’d accumulated a startling number of gowns in the past two weeks. She’d also accumulated a collection of jewels, which she never wore. Today, her ladies in waiting had insisted.

As she took off the heavy pear-shaped diamonds hanging from her ears, Rey watched herself in the looking glass. She could barely recognize herself. She’d had a hard life, but two weeks at court, waiting to be married off and enduring everyone’s curiosity and gossip, had hardened her and aged her in palpable way. She looked stern, flinty-eyed. She weighed the diamond earrings in her hands. She would be as cold and hard as diamonds, tonight.

She was no longer totally ignorant of her husband’s expectations. She’d had time to prepare for this, been given sly tips and metaphorical explanations by her ladies in waiting and handmaidens. Leia Organa had been more frank with her, foregoing euphemisms and slipping her a small brown vial. She took it from the small chest next to her bed. One drop of it under tongue, and she would be hazy and relaxed.

Layers of fabric had been peeled off of her like an onion, leaving her only in her nightgown. He bed had been turned down and the pillows fluffed. A decanter of wine and goblets were discreetly set out. She was alone.

***

After Rey left the banquet, Ren wasn’t afraid to descend from the rafters into the crowd. He could not face her, but he could face Hux – he could break Hux’s face, actually – and he needed wine. Hux looked up at him, eyes a bit unfocused, when he assumed his traditional place behind the throne on the dais. “Ren.”

“Your Highness.” Ren scanned the crowd, pretending to be looking at women, or for security threats.

“Do you think my obedient wife will bite my ear off?”

Ren’s cheek twitched. “Perhaps the wine will dull the pain.”

“I hope.” Hux sounded surprisingly sour. He took a long draw of his wine. “Go make sure she isn’t doing anything foolish, will you?”

Ren looked at him, sharply. “My lord?”

“She is fond of you.” Hux made a little face. “I suppose the same way she’s fond of that damned feral horse she keeps as a pet. But I need more wine, and I don’t want to find her a blathering mess, or worse, absconded.” 

***

When Ren found her, Rey was standing in her courtyard, looking forlorn and alone, her white nightgone shining like a beacon in the moonlight. She didn’t turn when she heard him moving through her dim apartment, nor when she heard his boots crunch on the gravel of her garden.

“Your Highness.” She turned, and her imperious, emotionless mask dropped when she realized it was Ren who had come to her, and not her husband. She looked very drained by the day and the anxiety that had built throughout it.

“I believe that is how I ought to address you, now. Your Highness.” Ren sunk, just a little too slowly onto his left knee, and then his right.  

“Please do not call me that. And don’t kneel.”

“You made a beautiful bride, my lady.” He stayed on his knees.

“You weren’t there.” She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “I looked for you.”

“I was watching from afar. As is my lot in life, it seems.”

Rey approached him, placing her hands on either side of his head as if setting a crown there. She threaded her fingers in his hair, the gleam of her diamond and emerald wedding band contrasting starkly against his locks. “Why are you still kneeling?”

He turned his face and kissed the inside of her wrist. It a close enough imitation of kissing her hand to be intimate without being traitorous, but the sensitive skin there quivered nonetheless. “I am afraid if I stand I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you into my arms.”

She ran her fingers down his jawline and held his face in her hands, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. He buried his face, wordlessly, in her stomach, wrapping his arms around her hips; he hadn’t been able to resist trying to capture her, hold her, even kneeling before her.

“Why did you come here?” She traced the shell of his ear where it protruded from his mussed hair – normally, he tried to keep his ears hidden under his hair, embarrassed by them, but she’d found them.

“The Crown Prince is drinking, still. He sent me to… comfort you.” He murmured, his lips moving against the soft white nightgown. He could feel the dip of her navel. He pressed the tip of his nose into that hollow, and then tilted his head back, to look at her face. “Let me kiss you. Once more. Before it’s too late.”

“It is too late.” Rey sounded bitter, now, her fingernails tightening almost painfully on his shoulders where she’d been rubbing them, almost comfortingly. “I am a married.”

“It has not been consummated yet.” He immediately regretted reminding her of what was about to happen. She paled in the moonlight.

“How long?”

“An hour. Perhaps less.” He rested his forehead on her abdomen. Each hand drifted up from the backs of her legs, one after the other, over the slight swell of her bottom, to rest on her hips.

“Ren.”

“My lady?” Ren looked up, and she kissed him, bending and bracing herself against his shoulders like she was preparing for a sandstorm or a wave to crash over her. He opened his mouth, kissing her hungrily, his head thrown back all the way. He wanted to consume her so there would be nothing left when the Crown Prince touched her. At least he would have the pleasure of knowing she wouldn’t kiss the Prince like this, wouldn’t tug his hair or make breathy, wanton sound into his mouth. This version of Rey – the wild girl from the North West, who kissed him with all the ferocity and passion she’d been keeping stifled under silks and jewels – would be his, and Hux would never claim her.  

Ren felt no loyalty, now, to Hux. He would have carried her to bed, or just pulled her onto the ground and taken her virginity there, with no remorse. Only loyalty to Rey stopped him, now, and concern for her safety. Her husband would find her a virgin, and would be placated.

An unbidden thought nestled itself behind his eyes – Rey crying, in pain, having lay mute during Hux’s clumsy fumbling and hurried penetration. She would be dry and clenched tightly in fear, her flesh unyielding.

Rey would never feel pleasure – not with Hux, at least, and that thought gave him savage satisfaction – but she would not feel pain, if he could spare her. He’d never been particularly generous when he took a lover or a whore, and even now, his motivations were somewhat selfish. _He_ would be the one to awaken her, to coax her legs apart and leave her boneless and satisfied on the bed.

And if he could not be her husband, then the satisfaction of being the man who could do that was enough.

***

Ren ran his hands down her legs, slowly, sitting back on his ankles, and when he reached the hem of her nightgown, he slid one hand under it to rest on top of her bare foot. Rey looked down at him, eyes heavy-lidded.

His hand moved up her bare leg, under the fabric, tracing the muscle in her calf. He  wrapped his fingers loosely around her half-bended knee. “It will be easier.” He struggled for a moment to explain, and then he moved his hand up her inner thigh, and suddenly, she understood.

“ _What_ –” Rey almost fell back, and he steadied her, gripping her hip with his exposed hand.

“It will be easier for you, if you are wet.” He was looking intently at her. She knew he had more experience with the mechanics of sex than she did, and so she trusted that he was right – whatever he meant – but she could sense something feral and hungry in his eyes. Whatever he intended to do to her was not purely altruistic.

Rey’s tongue darting out to lick her lower lip. She’d had no idea that someone might put their hand in the private place between her thighs, or that she would want anyone too, but inexplicably, she wanted _him_ to. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

Ren’s hand felt almost too large to wedge into the apex of her thighs, heavily calloused knuckles pushing roughly on the soft flesh of her legs, pushing them apart. One long finger ran down the edges of her lips down there, leaving them closed. It felt like a tickle, but he looked completely serious as he stared up at her. He must have known the intensity in his eyes was unnerving, because he turned his cheek and laid it against her stomach before ground his palm against her roughly.

Rey gasped, suddenly feeling weak-kneed. His fingers spread out, searching her and finding something that made her head spin when two fingers closed around it. He worked blindly, alternately rubbing that nub he’d found and sliding his finger inside. He did that mindfully, not compromising her virginity, pushing in only just the tip of longest finger and tracing the rim like a pensive drinker might trace the rim of a goblet. She understood what he’d meant by _wet_ now. His hands were rough and large but there was no friction, only hot, silky moisture, and the smell of sex.

Evidently, his fingers could not leisurely stroke and rub, buried to the first knuckle in her soaked folds, all night. His thumb landed squarely on that sensitive spot and moved purposefully, rhythmically. It was only a few moments before a powerful rush in her stomach left her doubled over, biting her lip and making soft, mewling noises.

Mercifully, his thumb slowed, then. She trembled, grasping his shoulder for dear life, realizing the fingers of her other hand were wound into his hair so tightly she must have been hurting him. His breaths were coming in small puffs against her. The tremors were beginning to pass from her belly, and she felt his breathing slow. He exhaled, slowly and regretfully, into her nightgown as he pulled his fingers away from her. They left a wet trail down her thighs.

As he rose up from his knees, Ren hooked one arm under her legs, lifting her off her feet. Rey curled into his chest, complacent and silent, as he carried her to bed. She let him lay her down and tuck the blankets around her, like a child.  

“He will be here soon.” She tucked her hands under her chin.

“I know.” Ren smoothed his mussed hair, cursing himself already. He smelled like sex; he probably looked like he’d been tumbling in the sheets, too. He’d look suspicious, but that was all right as long as no one suspected who he’d been with. He'd never hesitated to make excuses or just rudely leave after taking a woman to bed, and had never been ashamed if his men knew he'd been with a woman. But this felt sacred, and private, a window into what might have been if she weren't the wife of the future Emperor. He could not bear to leave her alone in this large bed, wide-eyed and waiting. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You need to go before he comes.” Rey’s voice was small. “It will be all right.”

“Rey.” He breathed her name; a rare word coming from his lips. Her forehead creased at that personal address, and she broke free of her post-orgasmic bliss, suddenly looking very angry and desperately afraid.

“Leave me. I order you to go.”

Ren backed away from the bed, reverting to formality. "Yes, my lady." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blushes* well I'm not great at writing that kind of scene so... constructive criticism? Suggestions? Guesses on whether Hux is going to get sloppy seconds?


	10. Chapter 10

Ren had stalked out of her chambers and down the hall before he stopped in his tracks and spun around.

There were no guards posted at the Princess’ door. For a moment he wondered if they’d been sent away for privacy on this, her wedding night, but there had _certainly_ been guards posted when he’d entered her rooms. He knew; he’d curtly nodded as they saluted him, and addressed them. He wasn’t in the habit of explaining his actions to his subordinates, but he made an exception to quell the gossip he knew would otherwise ensue.

“I am here on the Crown Prince’s orders.”

They’d bowed and ushered him in, resuming their posts. Now, the hallway was empty and quiet. Ren hesitated – something was not right, and he had half a mind to take up watch himself outside Rey’s rooms, until her husband staggered, drunk, down the halls. But that would be a uniquely awful torture. He wouldn’t very well be able to leave bother Crown Prince and Princess unguarded, and would be forced to remain, standing watch outside, while their marriage was consummated inside.

Alternately, he could find whoever was responsible for this security breach, and deal with them himself. It would only take half an hour, perhaps less, to push the responsible party, and post new guards. That would be a more satisfying outlet for his rage, in any case, and would spare him proximity to her chambers for the rest of the night.

Decisively, Ren turned to seek out a scapegoat. In his wake, a black-clad figure moved out of the shadows, slipped through the unguarded door, and entered the Princess’s rooms.

***

Rey stared at the vaulted stone ceiling above her, lacing her fingers under her chin – clutching the hem of her sheets and blankets – and waiting. It was deadly quiet, and if she’d been inclined to drift off to sleep, feeling light-headed and weak-kneed, after Ren had put her in bed, that inclination was soon gone. The warmth pooled in her belly and seeping out between her legs would soon be gone, too, and that, she regretted more.

The heavy creak of the door cracked silence punctuated only by her shallow breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut, legs shaking slightly, as the heavy footsteps alternately echoed on the polished stone of her floors and padded across her thick rugs. Her husband moved more slowly than she expected, and it was an agonizing wait.

She could tell that he’d entered her bedchamber, but the Crown Prince was still curiously quiet. The feather down mattress rustled as his weight settled onto it. She resisted the urge to flinch away. Her eyes were still screwed shut; perhaps she could keep them shut and imagine that this wasn’t happening, imagine that it was Ren in her bed, moving towards her. She could imagine _his_ long fingers, _his_ hot mouth. _His_ dark eyes.

She opened her eyes, then, and found herself looking into the face of a stranger.

A length of cold steel pressed against her throat, and before she could scream, the stranger’s hand clamped over her mouth. She bit down and he cursed, yanking his hand away just long enough for her to draw air into her lungs and scream. The blade of his knife pressed down into her throat, hard enough to break the skin and make her choke on her own scream.

And then, suddenly, the pressure stopped. His knife slipped from his fingers and onto her pillow, heavily, stained red with her blood. He had an odd expression on his face for a moment, blood bubbling at his lips. He stared at her, looking quite shocked, and then looked down at his own belly.

A broadsword protruded through him, buried to the hilt so that the tip of the steel was inches from Rey’s face. The blade twisted, brutally, and the strange man choked, expiring. He tilted as the broadsword was yanked from his body, splattering blood all over Rey’s face and sheets.

Rey screamed in earnest now, scrabbling at the sheets to escape, as the stranger’s body fell heavily onto the mattress beside her. When the man fell, he revealed who it was that had felled him. Ren stood at the foot of her bed, bloody broadsword in hand. He was panting heavily, flushed, with his teeth bared ferally.

Rey stared at him, equal measures horrified and relieved. Her savior was here, but he was bloodied and dangerous, looking at her with madness in his eyes. He hadn’t lowered his sword, and she dared not move, lest he strike her down next.

Finally, after they stared at each other mistrustfully for a moment, Ren dropped his weapon with a clatter, leaning over the bed and pulling her away from the corpse that lay beside her.

“Princess.” He addressed her by her title, but his hands were far too familiar for that, running over her body and checking for injures. He held her throat in both hands, examining the shallow scratch from the edge of the knife. “Did he hurt you?”

“How did you know…” She shuddered as he leaned down and kissed her neck, just above the wound, fervently. “How?”

“Your guards were gone.” His hands drifted to her cheeks, and he held her in place, dropping quick, desperate kisses on her chin, nose, cheeks, forehead, as if reassuring himself that she was intact. “I knew something was wrong.”

Rey sunk into his chest for a moment, snaking her arms around his waist. “I’m not hurt.”

She heard him exhale with relief into her scalp. His hands shook a little as he stroked her hair and back. They were sticky with blood, leaving red streaks on her white nightgown.

***

“Your Imperial Highness.” Ren knelt.

“The assassin is dead, then.” The Emperor gestured to the blood on Ren’s surcoat, hands, and face.

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“Then you failed to ascertain who sent him.”

Ren raised his head a fraction of an inch, flushing. “I… acted rashly, Your Highness. I thought only to save the Princess.”

“It is lucky that you were able to act so quickly.” There was something – _something_ – implied in the Emperor’s words. Ren kept his face carefully neutral, even though his heart raced at the thought that his master might suspect that before he’d had blood on his hands, tonight, he’d had his hands on _her_.

“It is lucky the Crown Prince thought to send me to protect her.” He lied, just barely. Hux was nowhere to be seen, but Ren could only assume he’d been apprised of the crisis as soon a Ren had alerted the Imperial Guard.

“Indeed.” The Emperor sipped his nightcap. “Since you are so… single-minded in your devotion to my little princess, you are tasked with her. For the time being.”

“Your Highness.” Ren’s jaw flapped. He was, in part, professionally insulted. Being a bodyguard was, in some sense, menial work for a battle-hardened warrior. Any high-ranking member of the Guard would be bored with such a position. Of course, Ren would not be bored, but instead, tortured. He would be forced to orbit around Rey, rather than retreat to the shadows and distance himself, for his own self-preservation.

“She must live, Ren.” The Emperor’s tone brooked no argument. “Until I have a grandson.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Ren bowed. “Where is she?” He’d left her with four bodyguards, in the apartment of one of her handmaidens. The women had clustered around her, clucking and plucking bloody clothes off of her and drawing her a bath.

The Emperor watched him very carefully as he spoke. “With her husband, of course. It is their wedding night.”

Ren’s lips twitched. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Highness. But… she seemed distraught, when I found her. Perhaps she should rest, tonight.”

“No.” The Emperor snapped, with surprising vehemence, and Ren jumped a little. Normally, the Emperor spoke in a deep, slow, almost dulcet voice, but nonetheless commanded attention. It was unlike him to show emotion. He closed his eyes, now, and spoke calmly, with effort. “I am old. I must have a grandson.”

***

Ren burst into Leia Organa’s apartments without any formalities or introductions, shouting, “Mother!”

After a long moment, Leia appeared, folding a brilliantly embroidered wrapper around herself. Her hair was braided for sleep, and she looked exceptionally short, lacking the added inches fashionable wooden heels gave her at Court. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

He was breathing hard. “Traitor.”

“I’d prefer you call me mother.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“If your Republicans ordered the Princess killed,” He snapped, drawing himself up to his full height to loom over her. “The Emperor will have your head.”

Leia’s eyes flashed; as much as it pained Rent to admit as much, he had inherited his temper from somewhere. “How dare you threaten me.”

“How dare you threaten your future Empress.” Ren roared at her.

“I would never hurt her.” Leia snapped, drawing her arms across her chest. “I have been her only friend these two weeks.”

Breathing hard, Ren assessed his mother. To her credit, she looked sincerely indignant at his suggestion. On the other hand, she made no bones about her treasonous political leanings. If she hadn’t been born heir to an exceptionally wealthy and powerful Kingdom, she would likely have been assassinated or executed years ago. As it was, she’d amassed somewhat of a political following. It was the type of following that would have been brutally put down if partaken in by peasants. But the nobles were allowed their – closely monitored and controlled – politicizing.

“If not the Republicans, then who?” He asked, finally.

Leia sniffed. “I do not speak for all those who oppose tyranny.” Ren made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat, and she frowned at him, as if realizing something. “You are alone. If you wanted to arrest me or drag me away to be interrogated, you’d have brought a squadron.”

“And?” Ren gave her a sideways glance.

“You are not here on the Emperor’s bidding.”

Caught, Ren hesitated for a moment, then made an excuse. “Heartless bastard though I am, I wanted to see for myself if you were involved in this, before I left you to the mercy of the Emperor.”

Leia laughed. “I am certain the Emperor and the Crown Prince suspect me as well. That isn’t why you came alone.” She cocked her head at him. “Are you in love with her, Ben?”

“You are the traitor, not me.” Ren hissed at her, taking a step back towards the door. Her dark, bright eyes – his eyes – followed him as he turned on his heel and retreated, feeling the blood rush to his face, tingling.

He’d lost control, tonight, twice. First, when he’d seen the man in black perched over Rey with a knife. He’d run him through with his broadsword, recklessly. He’d compromised valuable intelligence by killing the assassin on sight. Worse, he’d murdered him in Rey’s bed, soaking her in blood and coming dangerously close to running her through with the sword, as well.

And then, he’d gone to his mother’s apartments. He’d remained collected, and contained, in the Emperor’s presence. He’d managed to stalk the palace halls without screaming at any lieutenants or guards. But he’d screamed at his mother, releasing a torrent of anger and fear on her, under the guise of a righteous indignation.

And of course, she’d understood that. She’d seen that he was shaken, and that he’d been compromised by his emotions. She’d seen him as a child, high-strung and temperamental to a fault, _of course_ she understood, now.

He did love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no sexy times in this one! (At least for Ren... as for Hux, who knows what he's getting up to?!?) But as for the *next* chapter? 
> 
> PS: A lot of you have this "Hux is gay" theory and a) I kind of love it b) wait and seeeeee my lovies


	11. Chapter 11

Rey had never felt quite comfortable in her apartment, least of all when an assassin had breached its walls, but strangely, she breathed a sigh of relief when the heavy door swung closed behind her, the morning after her wedding. She stood in her antechamber for a moment, rubbing her forehead with her fingers and contemplating calling for hot tea and retreating into her bathing room for the rest of the day, when she sensed someone’s presence.

As quickly as she turned, she yanked a dagger, needle-thin and just as sharp, from the folds of her skirts, brandishing it.

Ren paused in his approach, and slowly lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender, his brows rising along with them. “A more sophisticated weapon than a candlestick, my lady.”

Rey lowered the knife, and stepped into his chest, impulsively, wrapping her arms around his solid middle and pressing her nose to his tabard. She’d understood his dead-pan reference to the night they’d met, and if she wasn’t exhausted and shaken, she probably would have grinned at him. Her voice was muffled when she shot back, “Yet again I find you lurking around my bedchamber.”

“Because yet again, I am charged with your safety.” He didn’t sound lighthearted anymore, but instead, regretful. He gripped her shoulders, gently, and pushed her away, so that their bodies were at a respectable distance.

Rey frowned, affronted. “What do you mean?”

“It is an honor to guard the Empire’s greatest treasure, Princess.” He took a step back, folding his hands behind his back. He was the picture of restraint, and he’d adopted his most aristocratic, unemotional tone. “And, in light of last night’s events, that honor is mine now.”

She placed a hand on his chest. “And is that an honor you wanted?”

Ren flinched, grasping her wrist and removing it, but holding it in his own, unwilling to let her touch him so familiarly, but also unwilling to let her go completely. He spoke honestly. “It is not.”

Rey cast him an askance look as she moved pulled her hand away and moved from her antechamber into her sitting room. As she passed through the room, she saw furniture that had been moved into the far corner of it – a narrow bed, and a chest. His cloak and helm were thrown carelessly across the mattress.

“I had hoped you’d come to me of your own accord.” She looked out into her garden, arms crossed over her chest. She told herself that posture was imperious, and not defensive.

Ren’s voice was a low rumble behind her. “No, Princess. I am here on the Emperor’s orders.”

She turned, then, surprising herself with her own boldness. “Then will you come to my bed, if I order you to?”

Color rose high in his cheeks, and she saw him chew the inside of his mouth.

She felt strangely numb and light this morning. It made her brave, brave enough to brazenly invite the Captain of the Guard into her bed. Anxiety that had built up in her chest and belly for days had evaporated.

To be sure, last night, anxiety had transformed into awkwardness, and then resignation. She had been expecting her husband to be a monster, and she’d been surprised. He’d been equally as awkward and resigned as she’d been, and they’d recognized in each other a strange camaraderie. He had poured her a goblet of wine – he’d sobered, significantly, since the attempt on her life – and they’d sat, in companionable, if tense silence by the fire. It was almost dawn when he finally cleared his throat and invited her to bed.

Once they were in bed, it had all been over remarkably fast. There’d been some fumbling, and cursing, on her husband’s part, and a bit of pain. The pain was nothing she couldn’t manage, even without any pleasure to balance it.

They’d kept their nightclothes on and avoided looking at each other’s faces, throughout the brief intercourse. That act that she’d only ever heard described in the extreme – pleasure or pain – had turned out to be bland and impersonal. Neither of them particularly enjoyed it, but he’d tried to be kind to her, in his own way, and he’d escorted her to her rooms at dawn, leaving her with a brusque kiss on the cheek.

Perhaps it was a silly to think something so inconsequential could change her, but she _felt_ different. She felt older. She’d conquered her greatest fear, and been unscathed. She was _invincible_.

Of course, Ren could crumble her newfound confidence in a moment. He finally spoke, eyes trained on the floor. He sounded as if he were tightly controlling anger. “No, my lady. I will not.”

Rey stared at him, hard, and then turned away, saying cold, “Then leave me and send other guards to my door. I want to be alone.”

She heard him shift his weight, and knew he was tempted to obey her. For some reason she could not understand, he did not want to be near her, but he was as trapped in these rooms as she was, now. “No, my lady. I will not.”

***

That night, Rey sat upright, hand over her heart. She’d dreamed of an assassin black, creeping through her rooms towards her, moonlight glinting on his knife. Her bedchamber was empty, lit only the embers in her fireplace.

She lay back down, slowly, staring at the ceiling and feeling her skin prickle. Her mattress and bedding had been taken away and burned, but it still felt odd to lay there and remember the pool of blood. The more she thought about it, the more she remembered how that hot, sticky liquid trickled across her skin and gathered in puddles around the sides of her body, soaking into her night gown.

Throwing the blankets off, she rose from bed, and padded into her sitting room, shivering as her bare feet crossed the marble floors. From this room, she could hear slow, deep breathing. It was the breathing of a man who slept untroubled. She envied him – and, after their terse conversation this morning, was furious at him.

Still, he had a bed, one that a man hadn’t bled out in. She thought longingly of laying down and sleeping – she had not slept on her wedding night, and had only fitfully rested tonight.

In part, she’d invited Ren to her bed because she was emboldened by the loss of her virginity. It had been tolerable but unsatisfying, and that had awakened a certain curiosity in her. The entire time she’d lain in her husband’s bed, she’d remembered Ren’s mouth on hers, and his fingers in between her legs. She’d remembered keening under the work of his thumb. Now she had a basic understanding of and some experience with sex, and she thought that he would be infinitely more satisfying than her husband. And so she’d invited him to her bed.

But there had of course been another reason she wished he would obey her and come to her bed. He was the only person at Court she could trust implicitly, and the only one she would reveal her fears to. She was afraid to sleep alone in that bed.

Mind made up, she crept into the antechamber and towards his trundled bed. He rolled over, making a soft noise as he woke up. His voice was thick with sleep. “My lady.”

“Can I come to you, then?” Those were the first words she’d spoken to him since the morning. He’d remained, like a silent specter, in her apartments, even as she purposefully ignored him for the rest of the day.

“My lady.” He crossed his hand over his face. “I…”

“That is not an order.” Rey said quickly, breathily. “I am asking you.”

He was silent a moment, and the he moved over, the mattress crinkling. Rey crept onto the bed next to him, finding there was little room for her. After a moment, his arm snaked around her and curled in, drawing her against his chest. She rested her cheek at the junction of his neck and his chest, feeling him twitch as her lashes tickled his skin.

“May I ask you for something else?”

He made a low noise that she thought was a rueful laugh. “Yes, my lady?”

“You called me by name last night.” She closed her eyes.

“That was a moment of weakness. In more ways than one.” He hesitated for a moment, and then added, in an almost sulking way, “You make me weak.”

Rey pressed her lips to his collarbone. “Please say my name again.”

Her head nestled neatly under his chin; it seemed they’d finally found a comfortable way to share the narrow bed and the small blanket. His muscles slowly unwound and loosened under her, and when he refused her, he did so without malice, but with tenderness.

“No, my lady.”

***

If Ren had struggled with temptation when she’d invited him to bed, and when she crawled into his bed, he quickly mastered it. That, or he mastered hiding it. He did not so much as kiss her hand, or touch her cheek, even as he became her shadow, following her dutifully to social engagements, chaperoning visits to her filly at the stable, and waiting patiently when she spent hours at a time in the Imperial Library.

Her ladies in waiting giggled behind their embroidery to see him standing, stoically, all in black, behind her, as she sat in a sewing circle. Rey could surmise that many of them thought he was handsome and made as much clear, and when she told him that, he promptly began wearing his helm every time she received a social invitation.

To his chagrin, one such social invite was from Leia Organa. He glowered for an hour as they took tea and spoke about mundane Court gossip, but when the strolled the gardens, after their tea, he hung back and allowed them some privacy.

Leia spoke to her, then, in hushed tones, about uprisings in the South and the East. Raiders were streaming in from the North – they’d nearly leveled Jakku – and the Empire’s forces were stretched thinly between two conflicts that occupied opposite sides of its vast territory.

This, Leia said fervently, was why the people demanded a Republic, a patchwork of independent and equal Kingdoms who bound themselves together by choice. The Kingdoms had been all but neutered by the Empire, left defenseless in the face of invaders and civil war. They were dependent on Coruscant for defense, for aid in times of famine or disease, and for governance. The Emperor had done all this in an effort to sustain his own reign, but after thirty years, the Kingdoms were beginning to crumble under the weight of the Empire.

Rey could have listened to Leia wax on that topic for hours – her assigned role was that of a beautiful and silent figurehead, and so no one else would speak to her about politics, or anything lofty at all –  had a courier not intercepted them.

The courier had a note from her husband, announcing his intention to visit her that night. When he arrived, bowing nervously at the doors, Ren silently disappeared. Rey watched him leave, realizing with an acute sense of loss, that her mostly-silent shadow of the past week was gone. He’d been her constant companion for five days, remaining formal and silent during the day, but letting her creep into his narrow bed each night and sleep tucked against him.

Ren did not return until her husband left, late at night. She heard him enter the antechamber and knew he was taking off his boots and sword, laying down on his bed. She rolled onto her belly, and wrapped her arms around her pillow.

Rey would not go to him, not after sharing a bed with her husband. She could not.

*** 

She began the next night's sleep in her own bed, as she always did before creeping across the suite to Ren's antechamber. Again, it was impossible to sleep. The night before, her husband had been efficient and artless, rolling off of her as soon as he was finished and buttoning up his pants. He’d smoothed his ginger hair with shaky hands and very awkwardly thanked her before leaving. And, of course, when he’d left, he’d left her completely unsatisfied. She had wiped herself with damp towels and changed into a clean nightgown, wanting to wash the somewhat unpleasant stickiness, and the memory, off.

But she hadn't been able to rid herself of the sensation of emptiness, and numbness. She thought about where Ren’s fingers had been, the night of her wedding, and she slid her own fingers there, to help the ache that had been steadily building for days now. Her husband had certainly not helped it . Alone, she couldn’t quite accomplish what Ren had with his ahnd, but if he refused to touch her again, it seemed a good enough substitute. 

At first, touching herself was soothing, but quickly, it became frustrating. The only fingers she’d ever felt down there were long and calloused and distinctly not hers. Try as she might, she could not replicate that. Angrily, she threw off the covers yet again and stalked across her apartments, not caring if she was so loud she woke her guardian. Indeed she did wake him; Ren was sitting upright in his bed when she stormed in. He looked alarmed as he reached for his sword.

“Are you so repulsed by me now?” She hurled the words at him, recklessly. He blinked in the candlelight.

“No.” He answered, finally. “I am not."

"Then why?"

He swung his legs off of the bed, resting his elbows heavily on his knees. He looked at her for a long time, almost menacingly. "You belong to another. A _Prince_. I will _not_ be the fool who loves another man's wife. It is madness."

"I _belong_ to no one. All rich and powerful men take their lovers." She put her hands on her hips, eyes flashing. He thought she looked magnificent in her anger. "Why not I?"

"I will not betray the Empire." Ren fell back to his usual excuse. It was easier than admitting he could not bear to love what he could not possess and control, completely. He stood, running shaking hands through his sleep-mussed hair. 

"You swore you would be only mine." Rey planted her hand squarely on his chest, and he caught it. He held it to his heart; it was pounding. 

"I meant I would serve only you." Ren said softly, lacing his fingers unconsciously through hers as they splayed out on his bare skin. They were standing very close, their breaths hot on each other's faces. 

"I do not want a servant. I want a lover." Rey told him, bluntly. A ghost of a smile crossed his face.  

"And I am but a servant."

Rey tilted her face up, considering him for a moment, and then tugged his hand, gently, pulling him along with her as she stepped deeper into her rooms . "Then come. Serve me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that most of you would have preferred to see Hux unable to consummate the marriage, either because he is gay or for some other reason. I'm sorry to disappoint - first, it might be clear by now that Hux isn't our "big baddie," and second, I wanted to write something that was a bit realistic. Nearly all women, in centuries past, were thrust into loveless marriages. I didn't want to shirk away from that - why take away a major point of conflict in my narrative arch? In any case, please don't be mad! I promise there will never ever be a graphic Hux/Rey scene (but Ren/Rey... oh, yes).


	12. Chapter 12

Ren took up his customary place in the corner of the room – having his back to the wall gave him the ability to assess all threats and completely control his environment. It was his habit to stand like this, still as a statue, nearly blending into the shadows in dim light, a respectful distance from the Emperor, close enough to guard him but far enough to stay aloof of any conversation he was not privy to.

He’d similarly taken up his duty guarding the Crown Princess, standing in austere black in the corner of whatever room she was in. It now happened that they were in her bedchamber, and that they were alone. He assumed his usual position, by habit, pressing his back against the cool marbled walls. He pretends he was chained to the walls – he couldn’t come any closer to her, or touch her.

Ren’s customary place in the corner of every room had one distinct advantage – he could see everything. Rey seemed to fumble the ties of her wrapped a bit; but after a bit of effort, it fell to the floor behind her as she walked towards her bed. Her fingers wound into the intricate braids and buns at the name of her neck, unfastening them. His digits twitched; he could let down that complicated hairstyle faster than she could, reaching blindly behind herself. And _then_ he could run his hands through her hair.

“It’s an unseemly habit you’re developing.” He cleared his throat, gripping the loose fabric on the sides of his trousers to still his traitorous fingers. “Taking off your clothes in front of me.”

Rey threw him a glance over her shoulder, flippantly, and then bent, grasped her nightgown, and pulled it over her head. The lean muscles in her back undulated, transfixing him, as she stretched her arms over her head. His eyes drifted lower, past the two shallow dimples in the muscle above her hips, over the pale swell of her bottom and down legs that seems impossibly long for her small statute.

She turned around, denying him that view, and he stared at her face, refusing to run his eyes down the front of her body. It had felt illicit, but safely secret, to look at her from behind. But it was too brazen, too intimate, to look at her while she looked at him.

Ren wondered if she were fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands, the way she had that night at the inn on their journey to the capital. If she was, she didn’t betray her effort. She titled her chin up at him, almost defiantly. She made no effort to keep her eyes trained on his face – she looked him up and down, lips pursed. It was an invitation to undress; he crossed his arms over his chest, stubbornly.

She cocked her head at him, almost as if she was amused by his reticence, and then perched, very elegantly, on the edge of the bed. Her movements, her mannerisms, had become much more elegant even in just a month. Someone, even naked, she didn’t look naïve and childish. She gave him a calculating look, spreading her hands behind her on the mattress and leaning back, in another a silent invitation.

“Come to bed.”

A smile flitted across his lips. She was persistent, he would give her that. “No, my lady.”

The briefest of frowns crossed her cool expression; he thought he saw a crack in her carefully crafted image of sexual confidence. “Then why did you come in here?”

He wet his lips a moment, weighing the consequences of what he was about to admit. He felt tethered to the wall by his own conscience – he could not go to her bed. His sense of irrational possessiveness contributed to that. It was the bed she allowed her husband into.

But he could no sooner leave the spot he was rooted to. She was enchanting lovely, naked, especially having had a month of good meals and rest to round out her sharp angles. He itched to run his hands over all that exposed skin – he allowed himself to look at it all, now – to make it all flush and tingle the way her cheeks were as he looked at her hungrily.

 _He_ could not touch her. But – still.

“I came to do what I always do.” Ren’s voice fell an octave, heavy with insinuation. “Watch you, my lady.”

The way her head cocked was not just theatrics now. She was genuinely confused. She’d understood the sexual nature of his implication, but not exactly what he meant.

“What I did, with my hand.” His voice cracked. “Do that. With your own hand.”

A flush, barely perceptible, crept down her narrow, white neck, and he knew she’d never touched herself that way. It gave him a heady pride to know he’d been the first – even including her – to touch her secret places.

She braced on one elbow, though, gamely, sliding a hand over her abdomen to the dark thatch at the base of her belly. He tensed, waiting – her longest finger just an inch from the outer lips of her sex, just an _inch_ from where he wanted it to be – but she went no further.

“Tell me.” Maybe she’d intended to seduce him – she had to know from the bulge in his trousers and the feral heat in his eyes what this did to him – or maybe she really did not know.

His voice was painfully breathy and thin. “One finger. Just – run it, up and down.”The longest finger obeyed, tracing the slit between her thighs slowly enough to tantalize. Up, and down, no more than twice, and then he croaked out, “Are you wet?”

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her finger stilling, the pad of it just nudging between her folds.

“Show me.” He wasn’t looking at her face, wasn’t looking but anything as her fingers as they dipped into her wet folds, spreading them, revealing her pink, moist center, but he was somehow aware that she was laying back, and he heard her breath leave her in a _whoosh_.

“Put your – put two fingers inside.” She obeyed, but her fingers were small, and crooked at an awkward angle to push inside. His fingers – his _cock_ – would be better; his breath hitched. He couldn’t touch her. This was enough.

“Other hand.” He sounded drunk, to his own ears. He was, in a sense, drunk on lust. “Rub, at the top. Little circles.”

Rey stared at the ceiling, fingers, searching out in vain for second, and then her mouth rounded and opened, wordlessly. He knew she’d found that nub, and her eyes snapped shut as she rubbed circles into it.

She seemed embarrassed to look at him as she worked; that surprised him. She was laying on her bed, naked, with her fingers in between her own thighs, _for him_ , and she wouldn’t look at him. Her surprising wantonness and youthful bashfulness was an intoxicating combination.

Touching her was, of course, forbidden. But touching himself – he’d done that countless times with her face behind his eyelids, in his own quarters and in the narrow bed he’d taken up in her antechamber. He’d been unconsciously rubbed the heel of his palm against his crotch, trying in vain to be discrete and still sooth his painful erection. When she found the sensitive bud at the top of her sex, and made that face, he let out a soft, frustrated noise and gripped himself wholesale through the soft black fabric of his breeches, frantically pumping his fist. His strokes synced with her wrist, speeding up just as she rubbed faster.

“Look at me.” That was a foolish command; he wasn’t sure why he rasped it out. This was dangerous enough, already, without admitting to themselves and each other what they were doing by meeting eyes.

“I can’t.” Rey’s voice was uncharacteristically reedy and thin. “I think -”

Ren swore, fumbling at the placket of his breeches. He didn’t look down as he unfastened them, unwilling to tear his eyes off of her, afraid he might miss the moment she came. It was sweet relief to grip his bare cock, to thrust into his hand and imagine that there wasn’t this space in between them. Her fingers were dipping inside again; he grunted, gripping harder.

She made a strangled, almost ashamed little noise, and he felt the nerves tingle at the base of his spine. “Look at me.”

She did, just for a moment, before she came. When it hit her, her back arched of its own accord, her head dipped back, and her mouth opened and closed, soft, keening noises escaping between panting gasps. That moment of eye contact had been enough; he gritted his teeth and stayed silent as he followed suit, his eyelids fluttering shut. He’d _seen_ her – now, he could close his eyes.

***

 “My husband is going north in two days.”

“I know.”

She raised a brow. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he would know her husband’s movements before she did. The obvious conclusion was that he was likely privy to more information than she was.

“Why is he going?”

“Do you want him to stay?” There was something – something – in his voice that indicated he was tightly controlling an emotion. Which one, Rey could not be sure. She gave him a sharp look.

“It does not matter to me if he stays or if he goes.” To him, at least, she could speak bluntly, even if she had to pretend to be appropriately bereaved in front of the Imperial Court.

“He is there to negotiate with the traitors in Dagobath.” He finally says, his eyes scanning the manicured plants and bushes of the gardens they were strolling through.

Rey made a little face. “Negotiate.”

“With force, if necessary.”

“He is leading troops there to put down the rebellion.”

It took Ren a moment to disguise his surprise. “What – who told you that?”

Rey gave him an amused look. “My husband.”

Ren made a little huffing noise. “Then why did you ask me, why he is going?”

She was silent for a long moment, running her hand along the top of a flowering bush. She plucked a white blossom and examined it, and then shredded it ruthlessly, fixating on rather than responding to him.

“I wanted to know if you were riding out with him.” She murmured, finally, scattering the ripped bits of petal. “Are you?”

“My place is with you, my lady.”

“But you would like to lead men into battle.” Rey gave him an askance look. Ren scuffed his boot in the dirt.

“I am far more suited to lead men into battle than the Crown Prince is.” He said, tersely. “But the Emperor has his reasons.”

Rey resumed her walking, then, winding her fingers behind her back. “I am not with child.”

Ren gave her strange look, surprised by her candid and unbidden admission. “My lady?”

Her jaw twitched. “If my husband had hoped to get me with child before leaving, he will be disappointed. I bled today.”

Ren made a soft, embarrassed noise. “There will be time for that. For children.” His mouth was very dry at the prospect. His hand fisted around the hilt of his sword. “When your husband returns.”

Rey watched him master his jealousy. When he had, she laid her hand on his arm. They looked the picture of courtly propriety – a knight escorting his queen through the gardnes, offering her his gentile arm. Yet, heat spread from where she laid her small white hand on him.

“When my husband returns.” She agreed, diplomatically. “And in the meantime?”

***

In the meantime, Rey was all but banished to the summer palace at Corellia.

Fighting that had worn on in the fringes of the Empire crept closer.  Political discourse became more spirited, and the Emperor ordered Kylo Ren to take the Princess to the summer palace in Corellia three days after her husband left with two hundred soldiers, bound for Dagobath.  

They rode under cover of night, on horseback, and arrived by nightfall after a day of hard riding. The palace at Corellia was nestled in a deep valley, and, rather than being surrounded by high, guarded walls, it was cloaked in heavy forest. Terraces spilled out from the stone palace towards a dark blue lake. It was no stronghold, but its isolation made it safe. There was no need to heavily guard the Crown Princess – it was silent and still on the shores of the lake. The palace was vacant, with no political rivals or treacherous nobles or disgruntled peasants in miles.  

The palace might have felt empty and cavernous, occupied by only two people, and surrounded by a loose parameter of soldiers, but it did not. It felt blessedly undisturbed and peaceful. There were no social engagements. No guards paced outside her doors. There was only Kylo Ren, moving like a silent shadow behind her as she explored her domain, and she found she didn’t mind that he intruded on her blissful solitude.

For the first time since her engagement, Rey was truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry for the delay. When it comes to writing sex, I get terribly insecure, and sometimes that leads to writer's block. I hope that going WAY out of my comfort zone on this chapter made up for the delay! And yes - it was inspired by a certain scene from "Girls." Kisses!


	13. Chapter 13

In Coruscant, Rey was confined to riding sidesaddle on a gentle chestnut, surrounding by a phalanx of guards, Ren galloping loops around their formation, looking like a hawk circling prey – utterly free and wild, while she was in a cage.

Now, she was free – or at least, her cage had expanded. She’d been trapped in the high walls of the Imperial Palace, but at the summer palace, the bounds of her freedom were the slopes of the valley. Every day, she rode out alone, save for Ren, on her wild gray filly. The lake was ringed with a narrow beach, and she raced its perimeter, counting the droplet islands scattering its dark, glassy surface.

She hadn’t come to his bed, since they’d ridden to Corellia. He’d settled into one of her adjacent sitting rooms. It shared a terrace with her bedroom, and each night, he expected to see her creep across the flagstone terrace to his open doors. He left them open in part to breath the cool lake air while he slept, and in part to allow her in. Not that he would admit that to himself – not only was he was too proud to seek her out, he refused to admit to himself that he wished she would come to him.

It appeared she was keeping the doors to her terrace open, as well. He knew, because he’d heard her, at night. He might have taught her to use her fingers, but she’d learned to use them to torture him from afar _and_ pleasure herself, simultaneously.

And yet, they remained at a standstill.

Now, on the lakeshore in the hot mid-afternoon, she brought her filly to a standstill, leaning back in her saddle, bracing a hand on the horse’s rump, and raising her brows at him. He’d been riding some distance behind her along the narrow beach, keeping his distance for more than one reason. The most selfish of those reasons was the desire to watch her hair streaming behind her, unkempt. Here, she looked more like the wild girl from Jakku than the Princess, and he found he liked that. When she’d been just an unknown from barely known parts of the Empire, he’d had her to himself. She hadn’t been someone else’s wife.

“Why was this place abandoned?” She gestured over the expansive lake. “It’s lovely.”

Ren raised a brow at her, surprised at her attempt at polite conversation, given their silence of late. “The sea is lovelier, don’t you think?”

Rey made a face. “No. It reminds me of the desert. Endless.”

“That’s what makes it lovely.” He leaned forward on his gelding’s neck, watching the smooth lake water ripple. “It’s unfathomable and unpredictable.”

“You can’t like anything that is _simple_ , can you?” There was a bit of bite in her banter, and he knew she wasn’t casually discussing the merits of the ocean versus the lake anymore.

He wasn’t willing to take her bait, though, so he continued blithely, as if he hasn’t noticed her comment. “My father would leave on long sea voyages, when I was a boy. I – envied his freedom, to sail away.”

He turned, and saw Rey looking at him curiously. “I’ve never heard you speak of your father.”

Ren turned back to the lake. “He’s dead.”

“Oh.” She shifted nervously. “At sea?”

His throat bobbed awkwardly, but he managed to keep his voice neutral. “No.” He could tell she felt uncomfortable, unsure as to whether she ought to say something comforting, so he elaborated. “He was my father in name only.” He barked a short, unexpected laugh. “And I’ve since changed my name.”

“Your mother still calls you Ben.”

“I know.” He scanned the tree-line, pretending to search for something to avoid her inquisitive gaze. “That can’t be helped. And in any case, my father’s name was the name that offended me.”

He could feel her watching him, though, even as he studiously avoided looking at her. She was nakedly curious, eager to soak up the history that he never shared with anyone. It was strangely intoxicating, to the object of such focus, and perhaps that was why he kept speaking.

 “I was sent to Coruscant, as a page, before my mother fell out of favor with the Empire.” He made a derisive noise. “The Emperor took me under his wing. And when Alderaan burned, and my mother took up with traitors … he took me in as his own, as his second son. I didn’t need my father’s name, or my mother’s titles, then.”

“My husband speaks of you fondly, sometimes, you know.” Rey sounded a little reproachful. Ren gave her a sharp look, and she explained. “He trusts you.”

“As does the Emperor.” Ren acknowledged. “And that is why I am here, and not at war.”

He sounded resentful, but she ignored that. “I am glad.”

He held her gaze for a moment, and then looked away again, voice catching. “We came here, as boys. Hux – the Crown Prince and I. We’d swim out to that big island, out there.” He chuckled despite himself. “I suppose to play some silly game when we were young. Then to drink.”

Rey examined the water, chewing her lip, and then asked, “Is it frightening? To be suspended in the water?”

“You can’t swim?”

Her eyes rolled; court manners were forgotten here. “I’m from Jakku.”

Ren thought about it for a moment – considered the consequences only briefly – and then swung down off his horse. It was a hot day. “Come on.”

She rolled her eyes again when he held up his arms expectantly to help her off her horse. “I’m not in skirts, I can climb off my own horse.”

He was acutely aware that she wasn’t in skirts – she’d secreted a pair of supple leather breeches and wore them freely in Corellia, away from Court gossips and leering soldiers. The thin kid fabric clung to her legs in a way that couldn’t fail to catch his attention. He might have thought her boyish, the first time he’d seen in her leggings and a tunic, underfed and glaring – but no more.

She slid down into his arms and he held her, tightly, to his chest, for just a moment, and then released her and ran to the water before he could lose his nerve. He kicked off his boots, peeled off his shirt and pants – “ _Ren_!” – and dove into the water, wincing at its glacier-fed coldness.

When he surfaced, spitting water and using both hands to tame his soaked hair, she was standing on the shore, arms crossed, boot tapping the stones, looking very cross with him. “Are you quite done showing off?”

He grinned wolfishly at her. “Are you afraid of the water?”

“ _No_.”

“Are you afraid of me?” He rose, just enough, from the water, to come dangerously close to revealing all of himself to her.

“No!” This time, she blushed.

“Then what are you afraid of?”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth. Even having become a princess, she was a creature of the hot, arid, desert. “It’s cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He crooked his finger at her. “Come here.” She started to step into the shallows and held up a hand. “Going to get your clothes all wet? Your laundress isn’t going to be happy.”

“How altruistic of you, to look after her interests.”

“Off with them.”

Rey was laughing now, pulling off her clothes and wading into the water, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. “You _dare_ splash me and -”

Her scolding was cut off with a shriek as he grabbed her around the waist, hoisted her over his shoulder, and carried her into deeper water.

***

They burst into her suite of rooms, fumbling at clothes made sticky and damp by putting them on over cold, wet skin. They laughed into each other mouths, as their wet shirts fell onto the floor, the skin of their torsos somehow still chilled from the waters and burning hot, pressed together. As if they’d gotten drunk on lake water, they stumbled, half-dressed, towards her bed. Rey almost tripped over a footstool, and Ren abruptly swept her into his arms, pressing his forehead to hers and letting her gather her arms around his neck to steady herself.

To her surprise, he didn’t hover over her, trapping her on her bed with his long arms and broad chest. He sunk to his knees at the foot of her bed, as if kneeling before a throne or alter, as he peeled off her soaked leggings, one leg at a time. There was a strange look on his face. It was an expression completely unlike the feral, burning look she’d come to expect from him.

He must have seen the question in her gaze. As he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to the arch of her foot, he rumbled, from deep in his chest, “You deserve to be worshipped, my lady.”

Rey pressed the flat of her foot against his sternum, stopping his descent onto the bed. “Must you call me that?”

Ren ignored her protestations, pushing her leg to the side, planting his knee on the mattress between hers, and sinking over her, his long limbs spreading out, claiming territory, claiming her. His kiss was no less possessive. It left her breathless. Just as it ended, he whispered, fiercely, against her lips, “ _My_ lady.”

 _She_ was possessive then, winding her arms around him and kissing his bobbing throat as he dropped his first kiss on her forehead and progressed downwards over her eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin, and throat. When he ducked his head between her breasts, her breath hitched, and she gripped his hair until her knuckles went white.

Chuckling against her neck, he propped himself up with one hand, untangling her hands from his hair with the other. Their fingers interlaced and he stretched her hand above her head, holding it there and rubbing his thumb in slow, gentle circles against the crown of her hair.

They looked at each other, in a lazy haze, for a moment, before kissing again. There was no hurry now, the frantic rush to her bed forgotten. In Coruscant, they’d stolen touches or even glances. Every private moment together felt hurried and threatened. Here, their secret was safe, and they could lay on a bed and look at each other with content anticipation. This was going to happen – no one was there to hear them. Her husband was hundreds of miles away. He might as well have not existed.

Rey wound her free arm around his neck and pulled him down, kissing him again. Ren had slid his hips between her thighs, assertively, forcing her to move her legs apart to accommodate his breadth. They were chest to naked chest, slick with sweat and droplets of water, sliding back and forth just barely as his hips rotated and pushed against hers, erratically at first, and then rhythmically.

She wished she’d had the foresight to strip off his pants before he’d pinned her down; the friction of the wet, rough fabric against the sensitive skin in apex of her thighs was almost uncomfortable. He was grinding his erection against her slowly, as if he were making love to her. She bucked up against him, impatient, frustrated that he wouldn’t strip away the last barrier between them, and he shushed her with a series of soft, breathy kisses on her face and breasts. 

Something was pattering in the distance; Rey dimly thought it was her heartbeat. Then, a thudding noise too sharp and too close to ignore.

They broke the kiss, and stared at each other, still caught up in the heat of the moment. Slowly, the peaceful haze in their eyes suddenly became confusion and panic. That sound – it wasn’t _right_. Save the sparse staff of servants who only rarely emerged from the lower quarters, and the perimeter of soldiers, the palace was empty. They were alone.

Or, they had been. Someone was knocking on her door.

“Captain!”

“ _What_?” Ren propelled himself off the bed with his arms, looking around as if he expected to see someone hiding behind the drapes, watching them. The voice hailing him had come from beyond the door, but still, had his broadsword been in his reach, Rey would have feared for Ren’s subordinate’s life.

“A courier, Captain.” The answer came, meekly, after a pause. Doubtless the soldier knew he would be the target of Ren’s famous rage. “From Coruscant, bearing the Emperor’s crest.”

Ren ran shaking hands over his hair and face. He sounded calmer when he spoke, but his eyes settled on Rey and burned. “Yes. One moment.”

They did not move from their positions as the footsteps retreated. Ren’s jaw twisted, and Rey could tell he was about to say something that would crush her. Before he could, she stood and turned away from him, wrapping the mussed blanket around herself to shield herself from both his rejection and his gaze.

“News from my husband, no doubt.”

“No.”

She turned from fumbling in her chest of clothing. “What?”

“The courier was sent for me, my lady.” He looked uneasy. “Else my lieutenant would have announced himself to you.”

Safely clad, even if just in a white cotton shift, Rey turned back to him, smoothing her hair into a braid with trembling fingers. “News from the front, then?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well.” Rey rummaged for a gown and pulled it over her head with a grunt of annoyance at the layers of unnecessary fabric and frippery. “Lace me up, will you? Let’s go meet him.”

Ren didn’t make a move towards her. “I will go alone.”

“Captain.” Her hands settled on her hips, and she realized, looking at his steely gaze, that ordering him around wouldn’t work. “ _Ren_.”

He turned away from her, looking for his shirt. “No. Stay inside and – and sew, or something.”

Rey’s sputtering laugh was half-born of rage. “ _What_?”

“This does not concern you.” He snapped. “Or did you think that my world turns around you, alone?”

Her mouth dropped open, and then snapped shut again, abruptly. She was too proud to argue with him, so she remained silent as he finished dressed and flung the dark cloak he hadn’t worn in days around his shoulders. He slammed the door behind himself so hard the fabric fluttering behind him nearly got caught.

And then, she was truly alone. She’d thought that Ren was her confidant, her friend, her would-be lover, _hers_ alone in all things. He’d let her claim him, as an equal, at last, or so she’d thought. But one word from his master, and she was alone again.

He had made his loyalty clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who's the ultimate cock-block - Snoke, or me?


	14. Chapter 14

It was late in the evening when Ren slunk back into her chambers, relieving the two guards who’d been posted outside to guard her in his absence. He didn’t find her in her bedchamber – he knew she could hear him shuffling around in there – but she stayed silent until he entered her bathing room. Unlike in Coruscant, the north wall of her washroom here had large, open arches to her private lakeside terrace. She had a couple of lanterns lit, but the moon was doing equally well to illuminate her where she lay, almost completely submerged and scowling magnificently.

“My lady.” He knew he looked contrite and pale, paler than usual. His arms were folded formally behind his back, even if he was wearing just a shirt and trousers, foregoing his full garb in the absence of any subordinates or guests. He bowed his head, across the room from the hefty wooden tub she’d had steaming water drawn up for. There was no opulent sunken marble bath at the summer palace. “I apologize for the late hour, but I have word for you from the Emperor.”

“The courier has been gone for hours.” Rey folded her hands under her chin, narrowing her eyes at him. “He rode off before sunset. I saw.” Ren stayed silent. “So, what news?”

“Your husband is well. He rides for the north, now, to deal with the raiders.”

“So Dagobah burns.” She said it flatly, emotionlessly. Ren shifted his weight, uncomfortable. He’d expected anger or tears, or even just silent suspicion and dread, but not this hardened, stone-faced assertion.

“Yes.” He fingering the very top of his sword’s hilt, imagining the crest engraved there and remembering his loyalty to his Emperor. “Dagobah burns.” She trailed her fingers through the water, brow creasing, and then her eyes flickered up to his.

“How far south have the raiders advanced?”

He knew the question on the tip of her lips – _did Jakku burn, too?_ – and he knew the answer. The raiders had swept down along the ridge of the northern mountains, leaving a trail of destruction and death. True, the raiders left survivors – and the Emperor did _not_ , when he put down armed insurrection – but when the attack on Jakku had begun, the fief had already been unguarded, starved, and nearly deserted.

“I do not know.” He lied. She didn’t seem to detect it, closing her eyes for a second and exhaling slowly.

“Is that all the news?”

“All the news meant for your ears, my lady.” He said it without thinking, and she looked at him sharply, clearly reminded of their argument that afternoon. He swallowed heavily as she glared at him.

“Then leave.” She sunk deeper into the water.

“I cannot leave you without protection.”

“You had no qualms leaving me alone for several hours today.” She snipped.

Ren frowned at her, simultaneously annoyed that she was sending him away now, but gratified that she had felt his absence. Avoiding her all afternoon had been like a moth staying away from a candle – impossible. He’d flitted around the doors of her chambers, nervously, feeling, at turns, purposeless and dejected, and bitterly angry. For all that he’d scolded her, saying she wasn’t the center around which his world revolved – he’d lied. He’d once been single-minded in his fidelity – _centered_ , as a man. No more. He orbited, at odds, between two magnetic poles, now – Rey and the Emperor.  

“I did.” He admitted it, before he could stop himself. “I was useless, all day, away from you.”

Rey’s lips twisted – it was a cruel twitch, one she’d picked up from _him_ , he realized. “I thought you wanted to be at war. Or at the Emperor’s elbow.”

“I want _you_ , more.”

They faced off for a moment – she was too stubborn to forgive him, yet – and then Ren huffed out a sigh, turned on his heel, and left the room. She clearly would not be moved; he’d have to drag a wooden chair in from the hall to sit on. He brought a chair into the washroom, scowling, and threw himself into it, splaying his knees and resting his elbows on them, to face her head on. “I… I cannot continue this.”

She rose, all of the sudden, from the tub of water, and he was looking up at her, the water streaming down her in warm, capricious rivulets.

She looked magnificently angry.

“I mean – I mean I cannot continue to lie to myself.” He explained. His eyes were very intense, almost as if they portended violence. “I cannot pretend forever that I don’t _want_ you. I _have_ to have you.”

She wetted her lips, eyes fluttered across his body in a surprisingly suggestive way. Perhaps she was not as angry with him as she'd seemed.

“But.” He held up his palm, and she paused, looking over her bare, wet shoulder at him as she wrapped a blanket around herself. It was easier to think rationally when she was wrapped up in cloth. “We cannot… we cannot be careless.”

Ren had read the letter from the Emperor with great interest – Dagobath’s fate, the progress of the northern raiders, the mysterious disappearance of two young noble dissidents (a disappearance orchestrated by the Imperial Guard), Leia Organa’s nervous retreat from Coruscant following those assassinations. All good news. But, he’d followed the ragged, loopy script of the Emperor past the news, past his seal, and then, even below that. One sentence: _is she pregnant?_

He’d come dangerously close to risking just that, earlier in the afternoon. All it would have taken was her soft, delicate fingers fumbling with the laces at the top of his trousers and slipping in to cup his stiff member, or his larger hand yanking it roughly out and pushing it into her just as roughly. The imagined scene was arousing, but terrifying.

Rey cocked her head at him, tucking the edges of the blanket under her arms and lifting her wet hair above her head to twist into a bun. She didn’t understand his implication, obviously, but her irritation had dissipated. She was curious. “What do you mean, careless?”

Ren watched her pad across the rugs, finding her silk wrapper laid over a chair and leaving wet footprints in her wake. She smelled like clean, warm skin and soap. It was an innocent, comforting smell that almost reminded him of childhood. The blanket crumpled to the floor, and when she bent to pick up her wrapper, his voice was hoarse. “You will bear the heirs of the Empire, one day. Soon, Gods willing.”

He couldn’t ignore her wince. He didn’t need to explain any further – she could not bear _his_ children. That was no great tragedy, to him – he wanted her in his bed, more than anything, and he was intensely attracted to her on a level he couldn’t explain. But he had no desire to further his wretched family line, or create a legacy of his own. And, on a more personal level, he had no desire to be tethered to patch of land, as a husband, father, and lord. His way had always been that of a warrior, not a patriarch.

“Well, not very soon. Hopefully.” She fiddled with the tie on her wrapper.

“Not before you’ve been reunited with your husband.” He told her, pointedly. She flushed, mouth opening to ask a question, and he exhaled, exasperated. “You not the naïve girl I found in Jakku anymore. Surely you know –”

“I _know_ how babies are made.” She told him, crossly. “I’m not an idiot, Ren.”

“Then you know we can never do what we almost did this afternoon.” He looked intently at her. “Never.” He imagined, for a second, a raven-haired child, rather than a red-haired child, heir to the throne. It was a strangely intoxicating fantasy – power _and_ sex – but it would be their downfall if it came to pass. Any child of his would be unmistakable.

She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly intending to look defiant, but instead looking like a petulant child. He’d thought her a petulant child a month ago, now, the gesture was oddly endearing. “So I suppose I don’t understand.”

He cleared his throat. “Your husband may be unimaginative, but I am not. There are other things that people do. Besides sex.”

Rey arched a brow. “ _People_? Or you?”

Ren flushed. “I have experience with those sorts of things, yes.”

“Because there are plenty of women you’ve bedded, but not wedded.” The accusation in her voice was unmistakable.

He flushed deeper; he felt it rise up his ears. “I’ve never married. And I have never had any desire to sire children. So, yes.” He thought, guilty, turning his cheeks even darker red, of the women – servants, handmaidens, noblewomen, even, occasionally, if he was on the road or the battlefield, whores – he’d bedded. To his knowledge, he hadn’t impregnated any of them. Some, though, he’d been more cautious with than others – the noble girls, who had to come to their husband’s virgins one day, or the noblewomen, who couldn’t risk a suspicious pregnancy while their husbands were away.

And _Rey_ – she was like playing with fire. It had always been somewhat of a thrill for him, to risk the wrath of someone’s father or husband. But Rey was different – neither his status with the Emperor, nor his prowess in combat, could save him if he made a mistake. And, what’s worse, he’d never much cared about the consequences that befell the women he bedded – although he had always been, in his mind, admirably discrete – but again, Rey was different. He cared what befell her more than he wanted to admit. Despite his loyalty to the Emperor, he felt a misplaced but undeniable urge to protect her from him. There were those two magnetic poles again, diverging and tugging him in opposite directions.

His eyes fluttered to hers; she didn’t seem truly angry. She must have known that he wasn’t a shrinking virgin, like she had been. Even if she knew nothing else, he was, after all a man, and free to do as pleased.

“I am not as inexperienced as you think.” If she’d mean to be alluring, it hadn’t worked. Ren immediately pictured Hux and felt jealousy bubble up in his chest, snarling and red hot. He hated the idea of her doing anything more than the necessary procreative act with Hux. She saw and quickly, corrected, blushing, “Well, I am completely _inexperienced_. But I know more than you think.”

Ren unclenched his fists, still frowning, but now intrigued. She edged to stand in between his knees, resting her hands on his shoulders and massaging them gently, working the angry tension out of the angled muscle between his neck and his shoulder. “Close your eyes, all right?”

“All right.” It was easier to obey that request with her wrapper on.

He felt her small hands bracing on his thighs, not quite spanning the width of them, as she sunk onto her knees. Almost of its own accord, his left eye flicked open. He knew, from the pressure on his thighs, that she’d lowered herself to the ground, and his body reacted to that realization instantly, but he still couldn’t believe that she was kneeling in front of him until he saw it for himself. She sitting, almost demurely, as if in prayer, between his legs. Her eyes were hooded by her lashes as she sat there, hands folded in her lap, looking down. She was completely still for a maddeningly long moment – and then she caught him. “Close your eyes!”

“I’m sorry.” His voice caught in his throat, eyes snapping shut again, both in obedience and arousal, as she rested her trembling hands on his upper thighs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“No looking.”

“Yes. I won’t.” He sounded like a fourteen-year-old boy, nervous and on edge, experimenting with something new and forbidden. His voice was stuttering and stumbling over itself as his breath quickened.

Her hands glided, up, past his pelvis and towards his navel (disappointingly). But blessedly, they trailed back down, lingering on the laces at the top of his trousers for a second and the tugging the end of one leather lace. He obeyed, and didn’t look, but he imagined she was concentrating as she tried to unlace him without brushing her fingers against his cock – a feat, considering it was prodding up towards his stomach, right in the way of her work. He grinned at the ceiling, realizing she was nervous to touch it and feeling an inappropriate thrill.

Her hand felt very cool, slipping into his pants. He wondered, for a silly moment, if she would still try to avoid the unavoidable, but she didn’t. The backs of her knuckles brushed along the length of him, and then her hand twisted, and her palm pressed around him. That was much warmer. He made a choking noise, and she instantly withdrew. 

"Sorry - "

"Don't be." Ren wasn't sure when his eyes had opened, but they had. He grabbed her hand and unceremoniously wrapped it back around his erection, his larger fingers keeping hers in place. He fumbled with his trousers using the other hand, getting the annoying fabric out of the way. Her eyes widened - that stroked his ego in a way almost as enjoyable as her hand stroking his cock - when she saw him, and he half wondered if she would have pulled her hand away, if he weren't holding it in place. 

"I thought you were supposed to have your eyes closed." She leaned forward, her cheek brushing against the pink, pulsing head. She was teasing him; he twitched in response, bumping her jaw. Her breath was very warm on his abdomen. 

"Can I -" He realized he was presuming that she was going to take him in her mouth, but _Gods_ , he wanted her to, and he wanted to watch. "Can I keep them open?" 

Rey turned her head just slightly, considering, and he held his breath. His hand was still wrapped around hers at the base of his member, and it would be so easy to wrap that hand around the back of her head and show her what he wanted her to do.

She didn't respond, but she locked her eyes on his and dipped her head, her small, wet mouth latching onto him, encasing his head. He did grab her hair, then, and pulled her closer, his hips bucking forward off the chair of their own accord. She made a little choking noise and he released her, flushing. "Fuck, I'm - I'm sorry, don't stop." 

To his relief, she didn't, moving carefully up and down, brow furrowed with intense focus. She wasn't practiced, but she had an air of utter determination and she was curious, poking with her tongue into the little slit on the head, trailing her finger down the vein running along his underside. He was barely halfway into her mouth, letting her explore and experiment, but it felt better than he'd imagined. She was no woman of the world, taking him deep in her throat or sucking him off efficiently, but, still, he was reduced to trembling moans.

This was something barmaids and whores did, yes, but not future Empresses. She should not be kneeling in front of him, deferentially, sucking his cock, but she was. The woman he worshiped, his princess, was doing _this_. And somehow, that made it all the more intoxicating. His voice was embarrassingly breathy and high-pitched. “How do you know – ”

“The servants talk.” She murmured it against his thigh, punctuating the statement with a dry kiss there.

"You listened." He croaked, staring at the ceiling. "Thank you."

Rey laughed - that was only possible because she'd withdrawn, his slick, flushed cock bobbing in front of her face. She flashed him a wicked smile. "Don't thank me yet."

"What?" He managed, weakly. She stood up – on shaky legs, albeit – and pressed a crisp, chaste kiss to his forehead. He stared at her, open mouthed, wondering if he could order _her_  around for once, specifically, order her to get back on her knees. He didn't have the gall.

She gave him a sweet smile, cupping his cheek with her impossibly cool and smooth hand, and then leaned forward, murmuring into his widow’s peak, “Goodnight, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY FRIENDS. How sorry am I about the wait? So, so, sorry. To those of you sticking with me - I swear, I'm not going anywhere. Please enjoy, and leave your feedback to keep me motivated and writing quickly. (Also, don't hate me for this cliff-hanger. I might be a cock-blocking asshole most of the time, but... the next chapter picks up where this one left off.)


	15. Chapter 15

Rey predicted it would take Ren mere seconds to follow her into her bedchamber; she underestimated. He grabbed her arm even as she was crossing the threshold, looking indignant, rather than furious, even if his grip was tight on her bicep. “You cannot just _leave_ me like that.”

She yanked against his grip, to no avail. He could physically control her, but at the very least, she could be haughty, so she was, leveling him a vicious look. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

He cocked his head, puzzled. “What?”

“This afternoon.” She clarified, tugging in vain against his fingers. “You left _me_ the moment the Emperor crooked his finger at you.”

He let her go, his face splitting into a boyish grin, to her surprise. “Are you… punishing me?”

“ _Yes_.” Rey found herself exasperated by his amusement. He threw his head back laughing, a large hand covering his mouth. It occurred to Rey that she’d never really seen him laugh before – chuckle, yes, or twist his lips in amusement, but never this.

She did her best to maintain her ferocity, despite the effect his mirth was having on her. The true source of her anger bled into her next verbal jab. “I am your princess; you cannot have me whenever you like but throw me away like a common girl when it suits you!”

That stopped him short, knocking the air out of his laughter. He stared at her for a moment, and then reached for her cheek, saying, tenderly, “My lady, you –”

“No!” Rey slapped his hand away, glaring at him. “I am going to bed.”

He let her shut the door in his face – she expected him to be angry, at that, but she thought she saw him smile as he looked down, tucking himself back into his pants. She leaned back against the oak door, closing her eyes for a moment, telling herself that her knees were only weak because she was drunk on her own power, not because she was fighting the temptation to open the door and let him into her bedroom.

***

Ren let himself into her bedroom, after all, slipping into the door an hour after her servants had left her to retire for the night, blowing out the candles in their wake. She watched him creep around the room in the dark, unbuckling his broadsword and settling down his boots, neatly, in the faint glow from the fireplace. His clothes were folded just as neatly, piece by piece, onto a chair, until he was stark naked.

She’d never really seen him naked, before – not fully, at least. He was just barely illuminated by the embers, but even so, she couldn’t help but compare him to the only other man she’d seen nude – her husband. Where her husband was nervous when he was naked, fumbling and almost shy, Ren was not. He was stretched out to his full height, unembarrassed in front of her. He knew she was awake, and watching him. She thought she saw his eyes glow in the firelight, like a wolf’s eyes.

“Rey.” His voice was low and entreating, and contrite – she knew it was contrite because he used her name instead of her title, as he so rarely did. “Let me come to bed.”

She didn’t have the energy to sustain her anger from before. She silently moved over to the left side of the bed in silent acquiesce, and he slipped under the blankets next to her, draping an arm around her stomach and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. Her transgression seemed to be forgiven; he exhaled deeply against her hair and settled into the mattress with a satisfied groan.

There as something so _ordinary_ about this – they hadn’t fallen into bed in the throes of passion. He’d simply undressed and gotten into bed with her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Sharing a bed like _this_ felt, somehow, more intimate because it was unremarkable. For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder if this was what it would be like to his wife – to see him strip off his riding boots and his weapons and to welcome him into a warm bed at night.

Someone else would do this, every night, one day. He would let his guard down for someone else, and just be a man, not a knight.

“Why are you crying?”

Rey hadn’t realized that she was, but his thumb snaked around her cheek to wipe away a tear trickling along her nose. “I’ll never be your wife.”

“What?” He sounded sleepy, and pliant – as if he wasn’t taking her seriously.  She sniffed, rubbing her running nose into the pillow.

“You’ll marry some other woman and I’ll be alone in a high castle.”

Ren laughed, softy, running a hand over her braided hair. His fingers found the ties and began unwinding the braids, methodically. “My silly, beautiful girl. You’ll never be alone. You’ll always have me.”

“One day you will want a wife and children.” She said, glumly. “One day loving me in secret won’t be enough.” She realized too late what she had said, and she caught her breath, knowing that, at least, he couldn’t see her blushing in the dark.

“Yes, I do love you.” Ren rolled her over with ease, leaning over her. His breath was warm on her face in the dark; she searched blindly for his kiss, relief coursing through her veins and making her bold. When he stopped kissing her, he said, against her lips, “I love you, and you will have an Empire. Isn’t that enough?”

“Is it enough for _you_?”

He hesitated a little too long. “It has to be.”

“For now.” It slipped out before she could stop it; she felt him stiffen.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t sound like he was on sleep’s door any longer. There was a dangerous edge to his voice, and suddenly, his weight on top of her felt smothering, rather than comforting.

“Never mind.” She tried to use the courtly, neutral voice she’d developed from the myriad social occasions it was incumbent on her to attend, as princess. It did not work on him.

“That is treason.” He sounded sharp now, and angry. “Go to sleep. And stop speaking to my mother.”

***

Ren woke her with kisses in the morning, so she was forgiven. The sun was just rising, well before her servants would bring her breakfast. By the time she opened her eyes, his hands were well on their way down her body, grazing over her breasts, the curve of her stomach and hip, cupping briefly over her sex, and then continuing, to the hem of her nightgown.

Rey rolled on her back, lifting her arms up like a child. His lips quirked at her as he pulled the white, gauzy fabric over her head, kneeling over her. He rocked back on his heels when she was naked, the same smile still tugging at his lips.

She should have felt self-conscious under his assessing gaze – she certainly did under her husband’s, and she understood, implicitly, that Ren had had far more bedfellows than the Crown Prince had – but she didn’t. After what seemed like a long time, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, chastely, and then her lips, and then her chin. His mussed hair tickled her face, neck, and breasts as he moved down, bracing himself over her with his arms. She traced the bulging, strained muscle of his bicep, fascinated, and he sunk, with a sigh, down onto her, resting his nose in the hollow of her navel.

Winding her fingers into his hair, Rey let herself slip into the fantasy she’d flirted with the night before – the fantasy of him coming to bed with her every night. Now it had a new facet. She imagined waking up with him every morning, seeing his hair messy and his eyes bleary. Seeing him press his cheek to her stomach, eyelashes fluttering against the white, silky skin there.

She couldn’t have fantasized, though, about what he did next, because she didn’t even know it was _possible_. She’d known what to do with her mouth between Ren’s legs because of what she’d heard her servants whispering about. It had felt clumsy and awkward, but he’d seemed receptive enough, so clearly, her maids had been right.

 _This_ , she had not heard of, and Ren was certainly not clumsy or awkward when he did it. He inched down the bed and pressed his mouth to her with practiced ease, grinning against her and flickering his eyes up when she made a shocked, strangled noise.

Rey clamped her mouth shut, one hand over it to keep any more embarrassing noises from slipping out, eyes widening, when he stopped grinning and started using his tongue, running it up and down, and then around, and around, in seemingly random patterns. It became apparently, shortly, though, that his patterns weren’t random. They were designed to make her moan and whimper and kick her leg out when he found a sensitive spot. The wanton sounds she found herself making almost overwhelmed the sinful, wet sound of him licking, sucking, rubbing his face in between her thighs. 

He found the nub, the one he'd shown her himself, and worked diligently at it, lick, suck, repeat, hands coming to grip her hips and keep her in place. His diligence was well placed; it couldn't have been more than a couple moments before her thighs tightened around his head, holding him _exactly there_ as she came, pleasure licking up her spine like flames and making her scalp tingle. She probably made more noises, but she was deaf to them, blissfully unselfconscious in that moment. 

When Ren rose back up onto his knees, kneeling over her, he looked equally as satisfied as she felt. Whether he was satisfied with how he’d made her moan, or with the erection resting over her thighs, seeming to strain towards her sex, she couldn’t tell.

“Your face.” She sounded hazy, to her own ears. “It’s…” She trailed off, reddening. He grinned down at her – definitely proud of himself – and then bent, rubbing his wet face in between her breasts to dry it, making her squeal and push at his shoulders. When he lifted his face, she saw he'd wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, and was easing it up and down, just enough to keep himself in check. He saw her watching, and rocked back onto his heels, picking up his pace, staring at her in an almost disconcerting way. 

Rey considered asking him if he wanted her to finish what she'd started the night before, but she decided against it when he tilted his head back, throat bobbing. He looked as blissful as she'd felt, moments earlier, and just as unguarded. It was a rare thing, for him, to be vulnerable, but he looked it now, working himself to completion in his hand, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, soft puffs coming out. His hand seemed to move at an impossible speed, and his breath grew ragged. When he opened his eyes and looked down at her, his eyes were dilated and dark, and there was something like awe - or love -  in them. Laying beneath him, then, she felt more beautiful and adored and _worshiped_ than she ever had. 

When he came, in a warm, not-unpleasant spurt onto her stomach, she thought one of those ragged breaths had come out in the form of her name. 

***

They must have fallen asleep, again, because the sound of a door opening woke them both, simultaneously. Rey’s laundress, an older, stout woman who rarely said anything, and smiled even less, had come to collect her bedsheets. She paused in the door, her small eyes wide at the scandal before her - a princess, in bed with her captain, and naked. 

Ren froze for an instant, and then he was on his feet, reaching for his broadsword. The laundress made a hasty retreat, the door clattering shut behind her, but he was nearly as fast. He was at the door, hell-bent on destruction, nakedness be damned, before Rey could react. “No!”

He paused, the muscles in his back tight, hand on the knob. Rey knew it would be easy – quick, even – to let him stalk into the halls and run his blade through the fleeing laundress. She likely didn’t have any family. The summer palace was remote, with no village for miles. The old woman could be buried in the woods, her corpse hidden along with their secret.

Still. “You cannot kill her.”

“It is her life or yours.” He turned, now, to face her. His face and chest were flushed, his hair wild from bed, his teeth bared, and she wondered if this was how looked going into battle. He was ready to kill for her, now.

“Pay her.” Rey stumbled out of bed, fumbling in her chest. “Just give her money. She won’t say anything.”

His hand flexed around the hilt of his sword. “If you are wrong, then we will be executed for treason. And I, for one, do not value her life over yours.”

Rey held out a pouch of gold coins, nonetheless. It was more than the laundress made in a week. She was not immune to temptation - she saw the logic in silencing this women permanently - but for some reason, she could not bear the thought of Ren killing her, for this. For her. “And I do not value my life over my soul. Please.”

Ren looked at her for a long time, and then lowered his sword, very slowly. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. He would spare the laundress, for her. 

Yet, even as she exhaled, in relief, feeling affection flood her, Rey wondered if he had, at the same time, doomed her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, but I am SORRY for the delay. The great news is the Big Life Event that had been interfering with me writing space trash is over, so hopefully, I'll be more prompt in the future. Thank you, endlessly, for your patience! Your feedback makes my day. Or night, as it were.


	16. Chapter 16

They were summoned to the capital a week later. The message was blunt and unceremonious, with no mention of the Crown Prince. Rey looked drawn and pale as Lieutenant Mitaka delivered the Emperor’s letter to Ren’s hands, and her knees wavered. Ren’s hands jerked, instinctively, to catch her elbows, and she leaned into his side, her small hand gripping his cowl, for perhaps a moment too long.

The lieutenant’s brow raised, infinitesimally, and Ren cursed himself, silently. He set Rey back on her feet and folded his hands behind his back where they couldn’t betray him further. In their precious few weeks of solitude, he’d forgotten what had been his cardinal rule in Coruscant: he could _never_ seem too familiar with the Princess. His vigilance had waned during the long days spent only in her company.

Hopefully, the lieutenant could dismiss what he’d seen as nothing more than the attentiveness of a devoted servant, or else, theorize that the Princess was in a delicate condition. That rumor must already be flying around the capital – after all, she’d been at the summer palace for several weeks, where no one could examine her stomach and see if it was swelling.

Ren followed Mitaka out of the dusty and long-used audience room, leaving Rey to her own devices. He made arrangements to ride out in the morning, purposefully avoiding her for the rest of the day. When they were alone, she would doubtlessly confront him about the possibility that they would ride to Coruscant, and to their deaths. It was something they’d speculated silently on all week, but now the possibility seemed concrete.

The morning after Rey’s laundress had discovered them in bed, a new laundress had materialized – young, mouse-like, and clueless about where her predecessor had gone. When Ren had slipped into bed under cover of night, that evening, Rey had flatly told him that the intruding laundress had disappeared. Ren had said something comforting about the laundress taking the money and retiring, but they’d both lain awake in uneasy silence all night.

Now it seemed the ax had finally fallen, after a week of waiting. The servants packed Rey’s things, the phalanx of guards readied the horses and consolidated, and Kylo Ren tried to maintain the appearance of calm and control. For the first time in his thirty years, he feared the man who had crushed kingdoms and stained farmlands with blood to create an Empire. That man had nurtured him, trained him, even loved him, in a warped way. He’d made him into an effective leader and a ruthless killer. And Ren had been blindly loyal to him, in return.

That was, until Rey had made her entrance. She’d made him disloyal, and worse, she’d made him weak.

***

Rey’s ladies in waiting were in a gaggle to greet them on the steps of the Imperial Palace, like a flock of tropical birds in their colorful silks and gaudy jewels. Ren caught her sidelong glance as they rode through the gilded front gates. He was struck with a memory of when he’d brought her to Coruscant, from Jakku. She’d still be dusty from the desert, then, so they’d bypassed the magnificent front gates. They’d been greeted by stablehand’s and military men, not courtiers and nobles. There’d been no fanfare for the future Empress, then.

 Now, he remembered that they were never truly alone. He felt it acutely as he helped her off her horse. He had a mad desire to hold her in his arms longer than he needed to, to sweep her off of her feet rather than set her on her feet, but they were surrounded by curious eyes and gossiping tongues. And doubtless, they were surrounded by the Emperor’s eyes and ears, as well.

Still, he held her gaze for a long moment, unsure of what he was trying to communicate.

The last night at the summer palace, once the moon had risen high over the lake, he hadn’t been able to avoid her any longer. Or rather, he hadn’t been able to resist. He’d come to her bed, silently. She had been silent, too. They’d kissed and rolled one another over among the sheets like desperate, brand new lovers.

He kissed along the line of her collarbone and took each flushed, pink nipple into his mouth while she combed her fingers through his hair, soothingly – she was already naked, she’d known he wouldn’t’ be able to stay away from her on what could be their last night together – and then pressed his nose into the valley between her breasts. She finally broke her silence, then, whispering into his hair, “Make love to me.”

Ren almost did. Her sex was slick and hot against the top of his thigh, wedged in between her legs. She ground against him, and when he shifted his pelvis, she spread her thighs invitingly, wrapping her calves around him and pressing her heels into the backs of his thighs. He pressed his cock against her belly, his forehead to hers, and gathered himself a moment. This might well be their last time tangled up together, might well be their last night on earth.

He pressed the swollen head of his member against her, and she arched up, wrapping her arms around his head pulling him down, and _into_ her. But at the last moment, he diverted his course, shifting his pelvis with a deep groan and a mumbled curse.

He still had hope, in that moment. He had hope that that night wouldn’t be their last night together.

That hope seemed fleeting now, as he looked at her on the steps of the palace. It seemed that this might be the last time he saw the wild girl become a princess. He wished he’d had the courage, or the reckless abandon, or even the despair, to make love to her. At least he wouldn’t have to live with that particular regret for very long.

Perhaps they were already found out, and doomed, and it was senseless to try and keep their secret. Still, his eyes bored into hers, intently, beseechingly, willing her to understand why he couldn't bid her a proper goodbye, with kisses and words of love. 

Rey smiled, just barely. The smile was more in the crease around her eyes than on her mouth, which as tight with worry. She was braided and painted and bejeweled again, and the hard, sad look that she always wore in Coruscant had returned to her face as they rode into the city.

But there was something soft in her eyes when she looked at him. She understood what he would have said, if they were alone. “I know.”

***

The Emperor was alone in his private library – a rare occurrence. Ren dispensed with most formalities, in the absence of any witnesses, inclining only one knee in the presence of the man who had raised him from boyhood. “My liege.”

“I have no heir.” The Emperor folded his black ledger, with fingers that were once long and elegant. They’d become wizened and cracked as the leather binding of his book.

Ren stumbled slightly. He hadn’t expected that remark. “Soon, your son will return –”

“And he will catch you in bed with his wife, like the laundress did?” The Emperor’s voice, normally almost oily, was suddenly harsh.  Ren closed his eyes for a brief moment, regret swamping him. He should have silenced the laundress, then, when he had the chance. That, or he should have grabbed the reins of Rey’s filly and broke away from their honor guard as they rode to their fates, and _changed_ their fates. They could have run away together.  

“You needn’t exact your revenge, boy.” The Emperor sounded almost amused. He must have sensed Ren’s anger and self-loathing. “I’ve already had her killed.”

For a horrible moment, Ren thought the Emperor meant he had killed Rey. He wondered if she’d been led away by her ladies in waiting like a lamb to slaughter. His face must have betrayed his thoughts, because the elder man corrected him.

“The laundress, that is.”

“My lord.” Relief flooded his veins, in an odd contrast to panic. Ren wondered vaguely – dizzy – whether he should expect a blade to materialize at his neck where he still knelt. “I swear; I have not compromised the purity of your line –”

“Stupid boy.” The Emperor cut him off, seeming, for the first time, truly angry. “Why do you think I killed her?”

Ren stumbled over words for a moment, mouth working nervously. “I do not understand, my lord.”

“I will not have my son _cuckolded_.” The Emperor scoffed. He stood, not without effort. It was the only way he could tower over his much taller knight, who was still, deferentially, on his knees. “Appearances matter, after all. But the purity of my line is… inconsequential.”

Ren’s mouth dropped open, but he couldn’t find words. At last, he repeated, “I do not understand.”

“I am the son of a general and a barmaid.” The Emperor ran a hand over his head; Ren flinched. “You are the son of a pirate and a traitorous fool. And look at us now.” He caressed the side of Ren’s face, studying him. “Blood does not matter, Kylo Ren. All that matters is _power_.” His nail scraped against Ren’s cheek, almost painfully, as a reminder. “And loyalty.”

“My lord.” Ren rasped. “I am loyal to you.”

“Yes.” The Emperor nodded, gently. He looked almost fond. “You are my most loyal servant.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And together, we are powerful. You can make me more powerful, yet.” The Emperor moved to the window, as if searching the horizon for his son’s battalions. “Although, love has made you soft. You should have executed the laundress yourself.”

“I have had several lapses in judgment, my lord.”

The Emperor laughed – a curious sound. “It seems you have, my boy. But you will not fail me in this.”

Ren rose, unsteadily, to his feet. He knew he was forgiven, and that there was some condition to his forgiveness – for there _must_ be, there always was with the Emperor – but he did not know what that condition was.

“My lord.” He tried to steady his voice, to regain the mantle of power he wore like his black cloak. “I am yours to command.”

The Emperor smiled, then. “Then you will give me what I desire most. Give me an heir, Kylo Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wiggles eyebrows* SNOKE SHIPS IT


	17. Chapter 17

The flock of women moved around the gardens at a slow, rustling pace. They were hampered by voluminous, heavy skirts and parasols and twittering amongst themselves; it wasn’t hard for Kylo Ren’s long strides to overtake them.

Returned to her rightful place at the center of the flock was Rey, stripped of her riding skirts and clad in blood-colored silk. Her tiara was tucked into hair that was elaborately dressed again. She pursed painted lips when she spotted him striding towards her – an effort not to reveal her relief at seeing him alive.

“Your Highness.” Ren didn’t miss a beat, sinking onto his knee in front of the gaggle of ladies. He rose halfway when Rey inclined her head graciously. “Ladies.”

“Captain.”

“His Imperial Highness requests an audience with you.”

There it was again – the subtle tensing of her shoulders, the tic in her jaw. The women surrounding her wouldn’t have noticed it. She kept her voice light and admirably bored-sounding. “Very well.” She cocked her head to the crowd of hangers-on, and they curtsied, en masse. Ren offered her his arm, and they broke away from the crowd, moving in measured, unsuspicious steps. 

It was an unseasonably warm day, and she was in thick layers of velvet and silk, but the beads of perspiration making the fine, downy hairs at the nape of Rey’s neck stick to her neck were not the product of heat. Hidden by her thick layers of skirts, she reached for Ren’s hand and grasped it hard enough to break bones. “Ren.”

“Do not be afraid.” He didn’t look at her, looking around for intruders onto their relative privacy.

“Ren,” She tripped, trying to keep up with him as his stride lengthened. She was pulling back against his grip, as if trying to stop him from taking her to his master, or at least prolong the journey. “Please, slow down.”

She dropped his hand as they rounded a corner. The two guards flanking the nearest door to the palace jumped to attention and the large door creaked open for them. They played their parts as they swept through it – Ren gave a menacing scowl, Rey a magnanimous half-smile.

She ceased her attempts to entreat him not to bring her to the Emperor when he took a sharp turn down a hallway that did not lead to the throne room or the Emperor’s private lair on the top floor and northernmost end of the sprawling palace. “Where – ”

“Hush.” He threw the word over his shoulder, absentmindedly, hurrying down stairs to the lower level.

The archives were dusty and dim, high-set clerestory windows letting in just enough light to make out endless rows of scrolls and tomes. He knew this place would be empty – he’d studied warcraft and languages there as a boy, alone amongst a sea of papers and creaky old leather. No one came down the archives anymore. They were a relic of a time before the Empire had consumed the kingdoms, a time when the nobles who had access to the palace were still encouraged to think about things other than revelry and gossip.

This was a place Ren had considered bringing Rey before. She frequented the Imperial library, but its texted were sanitized and propagandized. He’d wanted to bring her to the archives to satisfy her endless curiosity; to let her mind explore even if she was locked inside a gilded cage. He’d decided against it when she’d become friends with Leia – best not to give her access to a sea of knowledge about the world _before_ the Empire, if she was being made receptive to treason by his mother.

Now, he’d brought her here for an entirely different purpose than learning. Or perhaps not – the summer palace had afforded them time to learn a hundred little intimacies, both emotional and physical. He might have had fifty women before, but he’d never loved any of them. She’d only had her husband, but he’d never given her any pleasure. So Rey had taught Ren about love, and he had taught her about pleasure.

This was to be a new kind of learning experience.

Without prelude, Ren pushed her against the wall, unsettling a layer of dust. It settled onto their shoulders like snow in the winter, and swam through the air around their heads like pollen in the springtime. He kissed her throat as forcefully as he’d slammed her against the stones, hunching over her over predatorily.

She said his name again, breathily, into his ear, and he wanted to hear it again. He did, when he bit down on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, but it was sharper this time. “ _Ren_.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’ll show.”

“I know.” Ren ran his tongue over the slight indentation, as if his hot mouth could lick and soothe away the little bruise.

“He’ll know, Ren.” Her voice quivered, and if he had been paying more attention, he would have recognized that the shaking was from fear, not lust. He was too distracted.

His hands smoothed down from her shoulders to the tops of her breasts, just barely spilling out the top of her velvet gown. The tight lacings of her bodice pressed them together and upwards, and the heat of his breath on her neck had made them flush pink. He sunk to his knees and buried his face in the exposed cleavage, fingering fumbling at her laces.

Rey’s fingers knotted in his hair, forcing him to pull away, and look up at her face. She looked resigned. “Does it even matter anymore?”

“No.” He didn’t bother explaining, focusing on the laces. Rey yanked his hair, _hard_ , and he looked up, surprised, fingers stilling. She descended on his upturned face with a kiss, open-mouthed and needy. Her little hands gripped his face, keeping him in place, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. She kissed him roughly, almost savagely, almost the way he had bestowed her first kiss on her at the inn when he’d gone to collect her from Jakku. She tasted _desperate_.

So, it seemed prudent to forego the unnecessarily complicated lacing on her gown. Ren gathered those silly skirts in his hands, bunching them and pushing them up her legs. She grasped at the skirts, freeing his hands to wrap around her bare, milky thighs and hoist her up to his waist with a little grunt. He pressed against the wall and against her, rotating his hips and rutting against her.

Trusting him to hold her suspended against the wall, Rey snaked her hands in between them. His sword belt and sword fell the ground with a clatter, and then, after a series of painstaking clasps, his surcoat crumpled by his feet. She had more success with the laces of his trousers than he’d had with her dress; she made quick work of them, and her hand drawing out his engorged member made him hiss and curse against her neck.

Ren thrust his hips past her small, warm hand and towards her wet, hot sex, too impatient to let her handle him at all. Around his hips, her legs tightened, and the head of his cock slicked through her folds, making her sigh against his temple.

Even with her bunched skirts hiding them from view, he knew his way. He’d practically memorized her body – he’d explored it enough. He’d pumped his fingers in an out of her, and his tongue, too. He’d ran his fingers over the little valley of her bottom and teased the tighter hole back there, with his other hand half-inside her cunt. He’d dipped his head in between her thighs until they were slick and then pressed them together and worked himself to completion between them, the bottom and base of his cock rubbing against her sex and making her moan.

Perhaps that was what she’d been expecting, because when he thrust, without pause or permission, into her, her mouth made a perfect, surprised little _oh_.

Looking intently into her eyes, jaw set determinedly, as if he were trying to drive a point of argument home, Ren rocked back and then up into her again. She blinked, slowly, hazily at him, and then, the ferocity of his gaze was too much. She pressed her lips to his forehead, briefly, and then nuzzled her face into his neck, shifting her pelvis to accept his slow, deep parries. He ground against her sensitive nerve-center each time he hilted, eliciting breathy recitations of his name, and eventually, a muffled moan as she shuddered and clenched around him.

Her muscles quivering around him in climax was enough to turn their slow, rocking motions into rapid, frantic rutting. She could not more meet his thrusts than catch her breath, clinging to him. If she was hanging on for dear life, he was transcendent – flushed red, mouth open, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, sweat plastered to his forehead with sweat.

“You can’t come inside me.” The warning was gasped out, panicky, just in time, but Ren didn’t heed it. He crushed her mouth with his, then pressed his cheek to hers, grunting incoherently and pumping a few more times, slower, slower, and then stopping.

After a moment, Ren sighed deeply and set her on her feet, slipping out of her as he stepped away and pressed a reverent kiss to her forehead. A hot trickle of his seed descended her thigh under her skirts, and she knew what they had done could never be undone.

***

Rey surreptitiously wiped the tears from her cheeks, as Ren gathered himself, sweeping a hand through his hair to tame it and running his hands down his surcoat and sleeves to make sure everything was in place. He was strapping his sword belt back on when she couldn’t suppress a sniffle.

 “Is… was that – ?” The anxiety in his voice was palpable. She didn’t have any measuring stick with which to compare him, but he was a _good_ lover, even a cocksure, self-satisfied one. But now, when he should be more completely satisfied than ever, he looked worried.

“I’m fine.” She sounded strangely high-pitched. “Let’s go. He’ll be waiting.”

His mouth twitched, and then tension left his shoulders. He brushed a hand over her mussed hair, affectionately. “I am not taking you to the Emperor. I just wanted to get you alone.”

Rey exhaled slowly. “So… we are not – he doesn’t know?”

Ren deliberated for a moment. “He does.”

Panic settled in Rey’s belly, quickly following by dizzying confusion. “He is going to kill me, then.”

“No.” Now that he was clearheaded, Ren found he could focus on her laces. He tightened them, making them presentable. This menial task gave him an excuse to avoid her eyes as he admitted the truth. “The Emperor will not kill you.”

Rey let out a little wail. She clapped her hand to her mouth, feeling the stickiness between her legs and a rush of horror. “I would never have – I would never have let this happen if I had known.”

Ren paused at that, face coloring. “ _What?”_

Rey’s breathing hitched. She felt light-headed, somehow, even more lightheaded than she’d felt when she followed Ren through the gardens, sure he was taking her to their mutual destruction. “I thought we were _dead_. I thought – I thought it wouldn’t _matter_ if we made love.”

Ren’s eyes flashed. “It mattered to me.”

“I could be pregnant.” Rey leaned against the wall, knees buckling. “I can’t be pregnant. He’ll know. He’ll know it was you.”

Rey’s mouth twisted, and when he spoke, his voice was cold to mask the hurt her words had inflicted. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I haven’t seen my husband in weeks.” Rey whispered. Her voice rose in pitch, hysterically. “Why couldn’t you have just _listened_ and come outside?”

“It _doesn’t matter_ , Rey!” Ren exploded.

She caught her breath. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his prominent nose. Finally, he said, in a low voice, “The Emperor grows impatient with his son.”

She knew, then, but she didn’t want to believe it. “No.”

“The Emperor _must_ have an heir.” He sounded almost beseeching now, as if he was evangelizing her to his fervent belief in the Empire, and in their duty to ensure its survival.  

Rey’s mouth opened and closed, twice, and then settled into a hard line. “How _dare_ you.”

Ren stared at her, breathing hard. When it was apparent he had no response to her, that he could not defend himself besides with fealty to the Emperor, she shoved him aside and made for the door. He made no effort to stop her. The unsettled dust swirled in the air as she slammed the door.  

***

The Crown Prince rode into the capital with half of a battalion and a fanfare a fortnight later. Rey met him on the steps with her entourage. Ren hulked behind them, flanked by his lieutenants. He was in a black mood, and he donned his helm to hide it.

Hux placated the Court with a brusque kiss on his wife’s hand, after she rose from a curtsy. He said something to her, but Ren was too far away to hear it. He found himself wondering what his childhood friend had said – words of affection? A private greeting between husband and wife? Whatever it was, it made his chest hot with jealousy. Rey had not allowed him to touch her since their frenzied coupling in the archives. She'd barely spoken to him. 

He'd watched her, carefully, for any side of her monthly bleeding. None so far. It was an almost perverse desire, at this point, to see her fall pregnant because of him. It would be the ultimate marking of his territory, to make her pregnant, to do what her husband couldn't do, or hadn't done. 

Now, her husband was home, and after a sweet, short moment of knowing what it was like to claim her, to make her his, to be inside of her, he was relegated to his rightful place. Her servant, her guard. Not her lover, anymore, or so it would seem. Not her husband. 

For the first time, Kylo Ren truly hated the Crown Prince. For the first time, he allowed himself treasonous thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a) THEY DID THE DEED, was it everything you hoped for? b) is Ren's jealousy going to consume him? c) baby or nah? 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts, your theories, whatever! Things are about to get crazy, but I can probably be convinced to write some make-up sex down the line, if that's the consensus ;)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - non-explicit mention of rape.

The Crown Prince’s arrival in his wife’s chambers on the night he arrived in Coruscant was unannounced and unexpected. Had the nature of Rey and Hux’s relationship been different, Ren might have anticipated this turn of events. He wouldn’t have brooded by the window as the moon rose and the stars sharpened in the sky, while Rey tried to embroider, periodically stabbing her finger with the needle and mumbling something profane. He wouldn’t have given a gusty, melodramatic sigh and thrown himself onto a bench when she studiously ignored his queries and remarks about how cold the evenings were getting.

Ren was stretched out on the velvet tufted bench, arms behind his head, examining the intricate stonework on the vaulted ceiling. Rey had abandoned her stitching and buried her nose in a book, occasionally looking over the top of the pages to see if Ren had fallen asleep. He caught her looking and threw her a half-grin, pleased that she was only pretending to ignore him. She tried to scowl, failed miserably, and hid behind her book again.

It was still silent, after that exchange, but more companionably so. That was the posture in which her husband found them, when he swept imperiously into her rooms. 

Ren lurched onto his feet when Hux came in. They hadn’t been doing anything suspicious, per se, but his stomach still twisted with nerves. The scene looked too familiar, too intimate, for anyone else’s eyes.

“Your Highness.” He inclined his head, not making eye contact with the younger man. He sounded stiff and overtly formal, for all the years he’d known the Crown Prince. “All of Coruscant celebrates your victory.”

Hux lingered by the doorway, and looked past Ren, out the window. The city was indeed celebrating. “Does my wife celebrate, too?” He addressed Rey, but sounded as if he were giving a command, not asking a question. Rey looked up from her book, apprehensively, but words seemed to fail her.

Ren shifted on his feet. He’d always had the foresight, or forewarning, to leave before Hux came to Rey’s rooms. Ostensibly, it was the protect their privacy, but moreso, it was to avoid _this_. He felt both awkward and _enraged_ and he needed to leave, both because it was expected and for the sake of his own sanity.

Hux did not move move aside so Ren could pass with ease. He was the Crown Prince – he didn’t have to. Their eyes met – pale, icy blue, and dark, nearly-black brown – as they crossed paths. They hadn’t counted themselves friends in years, but Ren had always treated the prince deferentially, and Hux had treated Ren scornfully.

Tonight, Ren was forced to walk away so Hux could bed the woman he loved. Tonight, he could not hide the hostility in his gaze. The _possessiveness_ and resentment.

Hux saw it, and in his eyes, realization dawned.

They hadn’t drawn swords against one another since they’d been boys learning to fence. Then, they’d tapped training blades respectfully before launching into vicious adolescent assaults. Those sparring matches had been an outlet for their aggression and resentment. Each had what the other wanted – Hux, princehood, and Ren, the Emperor’s favor.

They didn’t salute each other by placing their blades against their own foreheads, this time. Their blades screeched out of sheathes and flashed in the firelight. The sounds of iron striking iron were too loud for the small stone room, bouncing off the walls and echoing.

“Stop!” Rey looked wildly between the two men as they circled around each other. “ _Stop it_.”

Both ignored her. Ren was a better swordsman, and a larger man, and before long, his steps and strikes had driven Hux into a corner. Hux’s pale face had reddened, his movements becoming more frantic and less precise. His style with a sword was elegant, but no match for Ren’s brutal force.

As he spun, Ren swung the weight of his broadsword around his body and towards the prince. A smaller man would have lost control of the whirling blade because of its weight, but he could control its heft just enough to send it crashing down onto Hux’s thinner rapier with devastating momentum and force.

The rapier clattered to the ground, and Ren’s muscles screamed with the effort of stopping his heavy broadsword before it sliced onward and into the exposed muscles corded in Hux’s neck. Hux’s nostrils flared, and the vein in his forehead twitched. To his credit, he did not raise his hands in a futile attempt at defense.  

Perhaps that was because he _knew_ Ren would never kill his future Emperor. The captain hesitated, for a long moment, and then lowered his sword, very slowly, to his side. This was, suddenly, no longer his childhood rival and the husband of the women he loved. This was the son of the Emperor he’d pledged fealty to. This was the Crown Prince. And Ren remembered himself, and his own position.

The moment Ren stepped away, breathing heavily, Hux bent and retrieved his own blade. He whipped it up, his composure regained, and pressed the sharp edge against Ren’s neck. His mouth twitched, and he pressed the blade of his thinner rapier into soft skin, nicking and causing a red bloom on the pale flesh there.

Being bested by Ren at swords had only made the fury Hux had felt at when he’d discovered the intimacy between his captain and his wife worse. His lips were pale and stretched over his teeth carnivorously. Spittle erupted from his mouth as he snarled out a single syllable: “Kneel.” As an afterthought – “ _Traitor.”_

Ren’s eyes burned black as he knelt. His mouth set in a defiant line even as he complied, ever the obedient servant.

“Your Highness.” Rey materialized at Hux’s side and grasped for his sleeve, ashen. “Don’t. I beg you.”

If anything, this entreaty cemented Ren’s fate. Hux lifted his blade, with both arms, above his head. He could have called his bodyguards to do his dirty work, as he was wont to do – doubtless they stood just outside – but given the nature of Ren’s crimes, and insults to his honor, he felt an uncharacteristic bloodlust.

The dagger Ren had gifted Rey the morning after the attempt on her life emerged from the folds of Rey’s nightgown, and she lunged towards Hux, reaching across his chest to where his heart lay under the rich velvet of his black tunic.

“Rey!” Ren acted on instinct, both to save the Emperor’s son, and Rey. He lurched forward to stop her, but she was too fast. The blade sunk into her husband’s chest, and he blinked at her, stunned, before he crumpled to his knees, reaching for the blade and tugging it halfway out before his eyes went dim.

***

The door to her apartments burst open, and the stomping boots of the guard encroached on her bedroom door. Rey sunk to her knees and pulled the dagger the rest of the way out of her husband’s chest, moving mechanically, when Ren grasped her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. He pulled the bloodied dagger from her, and when it was pried free of her fingers, hissed, “Get away from him.”

Rey gaped at him, flushed. When she didn’t comply, he shoved her, roughly, back, onto the floor. She was thrown to the floor just in time. Mitaka and a corporal burst into her bedroom to find the Captain of the Guard standing over the Crown Prince’s bleeding corpse and the princess’s prone, stunned form. The two men looked between their Ren and the slain prince.

“Lieutenant.” Ren bowed his head, in the most minute gesture of surrender.  “The Crown Prince is dead. I have killed him.”

***

Ren was not executed immediately. It was somewhat surreal, to be imprisoned in the same dungeons where he’d interrogated and executed prisoners time and time again. He leaned back against the stone wall, stretching his legs across the damp, dirty floor. He felt naked without his sword, helm, and cowl.

At least his men were doing him the courtesy of not gawking. Perhaps they still feared him too much to stare at him, Kylo Ren made low and slated for execution at dawn. It didn’t surprise him that he would have a few hours respite. The Crown Prince’s demise was unannounced. News of his murder would doubtless throw the Empire into political turmoil, considering the Emperor’s age and the Princess’s still-flat stomach. Ren could not be publically punished for his crime until the Emperor had a battle plan for the coming turmoil.

Strangely, his first thought was of Rey. Doubtless the Emperor would watch her hawkishly for any sign of pregnancy – for that would be his salvation. It was a comfort that suspicion would not fall on her, and that no harm would come to her while it was possible she was carrying a baby.

No one would suspect her, looking waifish and innocent in her white nightgown and wrapper, of murder. Infidelity, perhaps. But no one would think she had driven the blade between her husband’s ribs.

***

Rey’s hands twitched in her lap. She’d dressed herself, haphazardly, and tried to make her hair neat. The Imperial Guard and formed a perimeter around her rooms, and no maids or ladies in waiting were allowed in to help her. She’d been bustled, as soon as she was dressed, to the Emperor’s wing of the palace, in silence and darkness.

Her husband’s body was laid out on a long oak table, covered with a white sheet. Blood had begun to seep through and stain the white sheet. The Emperor paced, leaning heavily on the table as he circled it, over and over. His fingers skirted the edge of the white sheet.

“Leave us.” The Emperor addressed the gaggle of guards and officers lining the walls of the room. When they’d filtered out, he spoke again. “ _Why_?” Any other grieving parent would have shouted this word to the gods, distraught, but the Emperor almost whispered it, turning his venomous yellowing gaze on Rey.

Rey looked at her hands, knitting her fingers together to stop their trembling. “I do not know, Your Highness.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” He loomed over her, his anger seeming to give him renewed vigor.

“I do not –”

“Liar!” He slapped her across the face, his ring cutting her cheek. Rey bit into her lip, tasting iron. The Emperor seemed disappointed that she didn’t cry or retaliate; he retreated from her and whipped the sheet off of his son’s face. “Look at him.” She didn’t. “Or does your loyalty lie with his _murderer_?”

Rey stared at Hux’s face, then. He looked even more pallid in death – and somehow, his severe expression had not softened.

“I treated him like a son!” The Emperor stroked Hux’s hair, almost absently. “I taught him, I gave him _everything_.”

It was then that Rey realized he was not really angry at her. He was angry at Ren, and only punishing her in proxy. A despairing little part of her wondered if that was because Ren was already dead and no longer within his reach. 

“You little whore.” He rounded on Rey, and she flinched. Now, she was the target of his wrath. There was utter silence in the room.

Seeming exhausted, the Emperor sunk into a chair, holding his chin in his wrinkled hands. He seemed very old as he looked at his son’s corpse. His voice rose. “ _Vahla_!”

A reedy, shaking young corporal – she recognized him, he had been with Lieutenant Mitaka when they’d burst into her bedroom – answered his call. “Imperial Highness.”

“Corporal Vahla. Escort the Princess back to her rooms.” The Emperor fingered the edge of the bloodied sheet. “And stay there with her.”

His words hung in the air for a second. The corporal still looked confused, and had gone beet-red, but Rey understood. The corporal was young, perhaps a year or two older than her, and clueless, but he was pale, and freckled, and _red-headed_.

“Your Highness. Please.”  It turned her stomach to beg the Emperor, but she had no other option. The corporal looked like he was about to pass out. Rey pictured his death – for surely that would follow – and felt more pity than fear. Ren had seemed to be suitable breeding stock in the Emperor’s eyes, surely this man, with his red hair, would be even better. Unlike Ren, he could even be summarily disposed of so he could tell no tales.

He gave her a scathing look. “It was easy enough to spread your legs for Kylo Ren. Surely you can manage.”

***

When the Princess had left, the Emperor returned to pacing around his son’s form, surrounded by only his most loyal advisors. His brow had smoothed, as if the circles soothed him. He was nothing if not steady, unemotional, and exceptionally ruthless in a crisis. It was what had made him a victorious conqueror and an effective ruler.

But something occurred to him, after perhaps thirty circles around his son’s body. He stiffened, drawing himself up to his height, and roaring for Mitaka, as if remembering something. “ _Leia Organa_.”

***

Leia Organa was gone. And, of course, when guards stormed into the dungeons, so was her son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMMMM. HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Suprised? Happy? Sad (really?!?). Your reviews are precious to me. Love!


	19. Chapter 19

Ren woke up on his back on damp, muddied leaves. The trees were a canopy over his head, blocking the early evening’s musty light, and he wondered if he was already dead. The forest would be a curious afterlife, for him – he’d always thought death would be like the rolling waves in the remote reaches of the oceans.  

A leering, dirt-smeared face leaned over him, and the end of a staff prodded him in the chest, ungently. Hell, then, not heaven.

“Oy!” The face disappeared for a moment from his view; the pressure on his chest from the heavy staff did not. “He’s awake!”

Ren closed his eyes again for a moment, briefly, and then re-opened them. The sky above him was ringed with people now, staring down at him disgust or naked curiosity, or some combination of the three.

“Imperial pig.” Muttered one, a gruff, gray-haired middle-aged man who looked oddly familiar. His fingers played on the knife on his hip. Ren felt for his own weapons instinctively – gone, of course. He might as well have been naked. His head was aching.

“Let me through.” He knew that voice, at least.

Leia Organa parted the seas, sinking to her knees next to him and making a soft tutting noise, as if he were a little boy again, having fallen out of a tree or off his pony. Ren blinked at her, stunned. Gone were her fineries and brilliant silks and courtier’s curtsies. She was kneeling in the dirt, wearing earth-tones and leather and a fierce scowl. The only hint as to her royal birth was her still-elaborate braided hairstyle and the deference with which the murderous thugs who surrounded him treated her.

“ _Mother_?”

Her lips quirked. “They _did_ hit your head harder than they needed to.”

Ren sat up, gingerly, reaching for the back of his skull and finding it a bit sticky. He winced. “Where am I?”

“You’re –”

“General. No.” A dark-haired man to Leia’s right interrupted her. He looked vaguely familir, and his admonishment was respectful, if forceful. “You cannot compromise our position.”

“He can be trusted.” Leia sounded indignant. “He killed the Crown Prince.”

Ren did his best approximation of an imperious glare from his position, prone on the wet ground. He smarted at the suggestion, even if he’d adopted the responsibility for the Crown Prince’s death the moment the knife stuck into his chest. Despite his willingness to accept responsibility for Rey’s treason, his imprisonment, and his impending execution, his loyalty to the Emperor flared up.

“He has killed more of _our own_.” Her subordinate dug in his heels.

There was a rumble of agreement in the crowd, and Ren noticed that several pikes and swords were subtly leveled at him. Ren wondered, absently, if he’d escaped the Empire’s punishment only to be lynched by this rag-tag crowd of traitors in some remote forest. It was almost _fitting_.

Leia seemed to deflate a little. “Very well.” She gazed fiercely at the armed crowd, turning her head to meet each other their eyes. “But no one lays a hand on him. He is under my protection.”

The crowd collectively took a small step back, begrudgingly. Gamely, the dark-haired man who’d advised his mother to maintain the secrecy of their location offered Ren his arm. Ren resisted the urge to spit on his hand, and took it. When he was standing, he towered over nearly every person in the forest clearing. They seemed to shrink back from him, then, he noted with grim satisfaction.

One person did not avoid Ren’s scornful eyes. He leveled his gaze, arms crossed over his chest. Ren knew him.

“You.” He spat the word. “Trooper.”

The dark-skinned man drew himself up to his full height, unintimidated by the larger man who once had been his commanding officer. “My name is Finn.”

“Traitor.” Ren rumbled, loudly enough to for the man to hear it.

“Ben.” Leia’s voice was sharp. “You’re _lucky_ we had a man on the inside.”

Ren gave him a murderous gaze, although he addressed his mother. “Don’t call me that.”

Leia ignored the reprimand. “You owe him your life.”

Ren shifted on his feet, stomach roiling. He hated to apologize or express gratitude, even in utmost privacy. The idea of being made low in front of all of these people – traitors – was unbearable. But it was clear they were all waiting for something.

Finally, haltingly, he spat out, “Thank you.” Seeming satisfied, the trooper inclined his chin, turned, and walked away.

***

To his surprise, Ren wasn’t chained to a tree. He sat, gingerly, in his mother’s ragged tent. She scuttled around him for a moment, looking for a skin of wine, and then produced a glass. “Drink. You look like you need it.”

Ren took the cup, sullenly. “So. They call you General.”

Leia snorted. “A nickname more than anything.”

Ren examined his wine. “How long has this been going on?”

Leia cocked her head at him, almost sadly. “Ben, my politics have never been a secret.”

Ren grunted. “Politics are one thing. Armed insurrection is another.”

There was a long silence, and then Leia admitted, “We were not supposed to mobilize yet.” His gaze flickered to her. “The Crown Prince’s death was – unexpected. It set things into motion.” She sighed. “Perhaps before I was ready.”

“You should know I did not kill the Crown Prince because I believe in your cause.” Ren told her, levelly, his voice not even straining at the lie.

A fond look flitted across his mother’s stern face. “I know. But I am glad you did.”

Ren gathered his legs underneath him and stood. “If you’re going to mount an attack on the Emperor, I’ve wasted enough time already. I need a horse, and a weapon.”

“You cannot go back for her, Ben.”

“Am I a prisoner here?” He challenged her.

“No.” Leia hedged. “But we cannot risk it. We have only one opportunity to strike at the Empire.”

“I have to go back for her. If you plan to attack the capital, she is not safe.” Ren felt panic mounting in his chest. He had been sure of his mother’s willingness to help Rey – after all, she’d orchestrated his escape, and there was no love lost between them.

Leia’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

“She’s not safe.” Ren repeated himself. “I _tried_ to keep her safe, and even so – ” He stopped himself for a moment, angry. “If the Empire falls, she’ll be executed.”

Leia was quiet and confused for a moment, and then said, regretfully, realizing what he’d almost revealed, “Oh.” She ran her fingers over her hair. “I should have known you didn’t kill the Crown Prince. It was too good to be true.”

“I would never have killed him. I am loyal to the Emperor.” Ren croaked, feeling exhausted by repeating that and believing that over and over in the face of what his master had done to him, and taken from him.

“But you are more loyal to the Princess.” Leia looked genuinely surprised.

“That’s different.” He kicked a spot on the ground, muddying his boot. “How I feel about her, it’s different.”

“You love her.” Leia prompted him. “And that’s enough to break the Emperor’s hold on you?”

Ren looked up at her. His voice cracked, and he felt very young again. “I don’t know. But when she killed the Crown Prince… I would have gladly gone to my death for her.”

Leia’s eyes were curiously wet, but she stood her ground. “I’m so sorry, Ben.”

“You got me out of the palace. You can help me.” He rasped. “Please.” She didn’t answer, and he added, voice rising in pitch, “ _Mother_. Please. Help me.”

She was crying in earnest now. “I can’t. They have to think I’ve taken you and escaped the Empire. That’s the only way. If they suspect an attack, my men will be slaughtered.”

Ren rounded on her, old wounds from his childhood opening back up, unexpectedly. “You would leave her to die. _Your cause_ means more to you than her life.”

Leia’s nostrils flared, even through her weeping. “Don’t you dare accuse me of being heartless.”

“You _are_!” Ren shouted, not caring that doubtless the rest of the resistance fighters camped around her tent count hear him ranting. “You never cared about me, or about my father, or _anyone_ but your own selfish –”

“You!” Leia was riled up now, completely undignified and letting the temper Ren had inherited loose. “You are _blind_. Sometimes duty comes before love. I _always_ loved you, but I had a responsibility to the _people_.”

They faced off, for a moment, and then Ren spat, spitefully, having composed himself a little, “You’ve condemned her to death, and she might be carrying my child. Are you satisfied that you’ve done your duty now?”

***

As dawn crept over the encampment, people of all shapes and sizes emerged from their lean-tos, tents, hovels, or blanket nests on the ground. There were hundreds of them, and more emerging from the trees every few minutes, calling greetings out to old friends and comrades. Coals were stoked back into flame, horses whinnied and kicked, and rag-tag soldiers sharpened their swords and counted their arrows. There was a somber mood, despite the bustle. It was obvious an attack on the capital was impending.

Ren had been lent the largest shirt and earth-colored jerkin they could muster up, so he didn’t stand out so starkly in his black surcoat. Still, he earned plenty of distrustful and wary looks as he circled the encampment like a caged animal, gulping lungful’s of cold air and frantically running his hands through his hair every few moments.

Now that it was light, he could set off on foot, aimless, until he found someone he could buy – no, steal – a horse from, he had no money. Thankfully, he frequently wore a helm, and his face wasn’t immediately recognized all around the Empire. Still, there’d be a hefty bounty out on him, and troopers patrolling the countryside looking for him. The panic was just beginning to constrict his chest again when he heard the rustle of leaves behind him.

 “Ben.”

Ren wrenched around, angrily, ready to lash out. The dark haired man, the one that had looked vaguely familiar, the one his mother seemed to have trusted, was watching him.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

Ren made a disdainful sound. “No.”

“Poe Dameron.” He was holding the reins to two saddled horses, ever so casually, as if taunting Ren. “My father was your father’s groom. He taught you to ride.”

“Oh.” Ren remembered, now. This man had been a little boy on the periphery of his childhood, clever and mischievous. “Yes.”

“Mind if I call you Ben?” Poe asked, airly.

“Yes.” Ren grumbled.

“Well, Ben,” Poe ignored him. He held out the reins of one of the horses and gave him a wicked smile. “Still remember how to ride?”

***

They rode out of encampment before Leia could catch them and intervene. Poe seemed confident in where he was going, though there was no discernable path. His horse picked its way, unhurriedly, over streams and large roots, as they wound their way through trees thicker than ten men. They made their way out of a deep valley, in about an hour’s time.

“Where are we?” Ren looked out at the endless trees, feeling hopelessly lost. He was a seasoned traveler, but this place was utterly strange to him, even in the light and having had his head injury tended to.

Poe laughed, but not cruelly. He sounded almost amiable. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Ben.”

“Stop calling me that.” Ren muttered, sullenly. He’d thought about surpassing Poe on horseback and riding away, but the dense forest was no place to break into a gallop. Further, it’d be an even worse place to get lost. “Why are you helping me, then?”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Why are you taking me to Coruscant?”

“I’m not taking you to Coruscant.” Poe laughed again.

Ren scowled at his back. “Where are you taking me, then?”

Poe didn’t answer, but he picked up a whistling tune as they meandered along, the trees gradually thinning.  Ren flexed his hands on the reins, his blood boiling at their pace. Poe seemed utterly unhurried, though, even when they broke the tree line. Poe swung off his horse, dropped the reins, and crept up the arch of a rocky ridge, laying flat on his belly. He gestured for Ren to follow, so he did, feeling utterly undignified as he crawled on his stomach to the edge of the rock outcrop.

Imperial soldiers were visible in the distance, perhaps a few miles away.

“You can see,” Poe traced the horizon with his fingertip. “They’re riding in a particular formation.”

“Chasing something.” Ren realized. The troops were moving fast, on horseback, closing in like a net.

“Exactly.” Poe gave him a sidelong look. “The only person I expect the Imperial Guard to be chasing at the moment is _you_. So when our lookouts sent word they were giving chase in our direction, I was curious.”

Ren watched the troops move, uneasily. He followed the trajectory of their movement, straining his eyes. A small black dot traveled, a distance ahead of the troops, weaving and bobbing through the brush and  trees. It was a lone horse, trying to evade the platoon behind it, but unmistakably trying to reach the safety of the thick forest. “There.”

Poe craned his neck to see the dot. “Yes.”

“You don’t think –” Ren leaned forward, precariously, hardly daring to hope.

"Can't tell."

They waited in silence as the horses approached their hidden vantage point. It didn't take long at full gallop, but Ren's heart sunk as the first, lone horse passed the outcrop. It was a dappled gray filly, _Rey's_ filly -  riderless, galloping wildly, with twenty troopers thundering just minutes behind it,  the earth shaking with their horse's hooves.

A black cloak had been tied enticingly around the filly's pommel, keeping the platoon in pursuit by flapping in the wind and imitating a rider in the saddle. But the rider was gone, and the horse's pale haunches were smeared with blood. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like, how much can you guys take? Because I can do drama and angst ALL DAY. (On a more serious note, don't despair. My space babies will have the promised make-up sex... eventually. Soon. I promise!).


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Another chapter, so soon? Well, yeah, I basically needed to publish this before I lost my nerve because it's the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Forgive me, for I have sinned.

As soon as the horseback troopers passed the rocky outcrop and the thunder of their horses hooves had faded away, signifying they’d traveled a safe distance away, Ren threw himself down the slope, bellowing, “ _Rey_!”

“Ben!” Poe jumped after him. “What – ”

“That’s her horse.” Ren crashed into the brush. “Still running. She can’t have come off her horse’s back too long ago, or it would’ve stopped running. _Rey_!”

“Do you want to bring the whole Imperial Army down on our heads?” Poe hissed. “As soon as that horse stops, they’ll realize she’s gone and double back.”

“Then help me look.” Ren snarled, tracing the hoof prints through the beaten-down grass. “This way.”

Blood, speckled on the branches of a stubbly little tree. He followed it, diverging from the path the horses had followed.

“Ren?”

He spun around, frantically.

Rey rose from the bushes, sway precariously. In any other circumstances, she would have looked comical – dressed in an Imperial uniform. The black velvet tunic was vastly oversized on her, dwarfing her small frame. She was holding a metal helm in one hand. It dropped to the ground with a _thunk_ when he crossed the distance between them in three long strides and gathered her into his arms.

She wailed, softly, as he crushed her to his chest, and he drew back, confused. Her face was white as a sheet, and he noticed, for the first time, a bloom of blood – old, dark blood – on her shoulder. A broken off arrow protruded from her flesh, just under her collarbone on the left side. Ren hissed, angrily, tracing around the wound with his index finger. It was high-set in her torso, above all of her organs, but the blood crusting around it meant it was already a few hours old and festering.

Rey’s knees buckled, then, and he swore, catching her and cradling her against his chest. “What happened?”  

She smiled up at him, weakly. “Should have killed him.”

“What?”

“Vahla.” She looked almost dreamy. “I should’ve killed him. Stupid mistake.”

***

He’d carried her into camp, roaring for a doctor as if he were still the Captain of the Guard and he could still issue orders that everyone around him would scramble to obey. Thankfully, a doctor had been on hand. He’d fussed over Rey, cutting off her too-big stolen tunic and shirt, and then tutting as he prodded the arrow.

“It’s a lucky thing you didn’t pull this out, my lady, or you’d be bled out by now.” He gripped it delicately between his fore-fingers and tugged, and Rey howled.

“You’re hurting her.” Ren snarled, hovering over them.

“You, quiet.” The Doctor admonished Rey. He turned to Ren. “And you, _out_.”

The doctor had only allowed him back into the tent when Rey was freshly bandaged, smelling like herbal salve, and drugged into a deep sleep. He’d crouched by her pallet, folding his hands and pressing them to his lips. Occasionally, he’d gnawed on his knuckles, making the skin there raw.

He refused a few offers from his mother (who was apologetic; unlike her) and Poe of food or relief from his post before he was left alone by everyone at the camp. Everyone but the doctor was the recipient of his protective glare when they came near to gawk at the sleeping princess, so they left him alone to watch vigil as the sun sunk into the horizon and grew dark in the forest.

The color returned to Rey’s cheeks, ever so slowly, and eventually, as his primal sense of panic at seeing her bleed faded, his eyelids began to droop. Without adrenaline, he was exhausted. She would recover, and he needed _sleep._

Ren crawled onto the pallet, curling his body around Rey’s. She was sprawled out on her back, head lolled to one side unnaturally. Propping his head up on one arm, he shifted the thin cushion under her head so she wouldn’t have a sore neck to boot in when she woke up, and smoothed a sweaty tendril of hair off of her forehead. Her fever had broken, and the thin sheen of sweat on her skin had crusted. Even so, with her mouth hanging slightly open, she looked imminently beautiful to him.

***

 “Ren.”

He must have fallen asleep; he woke up to Rey studying him. She was still splayed on her back, but she’d opened her eyes, and they while they weren’t totally clear of the drug’s haze, she was awake. He’d draped his arm over her ribs in his sleep, in an unconscious effort to hold her closer, and now, he withdrew it, muttering an apology. “I’m sorry – your shoulder.”

She gave him a small smile, wrapping her small hand around three of his fingers and tugging his hand back onto her chest. She curled her fist inside his, tucking their hands in between her breasts, close to her heartbeat. “No, please.”

“How do you feel?” She had an iron grip on his one hand, but his other was free to trace the curve of her cheek.

She mustered a grin. “Just a flesh wound. Archer.”

“What did you mean, you should have killed him? What happened?” He realized he was gripping her hand too tightly and loosened his fingers.

“Mmm.” Rey shifted to nestle into his side, wincing a bit and closing her eyes. “The corporal. Vahla.”

“Vahla?” Ren knew that name. “What about him?”

Rey didn’t open her eyes. “He was supposed to –” she stuttered for a moment on the words – “guard me.”

Ren combed a hand over her hair, brow creasing. “A corporal? He’s – he’s barely twenty. The Emperor trusted you with _him_?”

She swallowed. Her words sounded curiously thick. “I don’t mean that he was supposed to guard me for my own safety.”

 He’d accepted his punishment for the Crown Prince’s death with the aim sparing her, and he’d been frantic to rescue her before the impending coup attempt. He couldn’t fathom what she’d gotten herself into in the meantime. “…Why?”

She traced his jawline, eyes hooded. “The Crown Prince’s death is still a secret, Ren. There – there was still time. As long as the Crown Prince’s death was a secret until he could be sure.”

“I’ll kill him.” The words erupted in a low growl from Ren’s chest. He’d known that in the aftermath of Hux’s murder, Rey’s fate would, in some measure rest on whether she bore a child or not, but he’d – stupidly – not even considered the possibility that the Emperor would order her rape. “You _should_ have killed him, but now _I’ll_ kill him.”

“No.” Rey said quickly, her eyes wide and almost beseeching. Her fingers fluttered by his pulse. “I should’ve killed him, but I – I just waited until he took off his clothes.” Her lips quirked, barely, with a bit of gallows humor. “And then I stole them.”

Ren almost laughed, but he couldn’t help scolding. “You should have known he would alert the Guard. Naked or not.”

Rey curled closer to him, resting her forehead against the ridge of his throat and her lips on the hollow at the bottom of it. “I know. I just couldn’t.” She was silent for a moment, then said, softly, “I’m still sick about killing my husband. I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was done. But he was going to kill you.” She turned her luminous eyes on him. “So I’d do it again.”

***

It shouldn’t have surprised Ren that seemingly the _entire_ rebel encampment as besotted with Rey as soon as she was able to walk around. She flitted from campfire to campfire, dressed in an old shirt and trousers, with a wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a bright, cheerful smile on her face. The fighters joked and flirted with her, equal parts charmed by her scrappiness and in awe of her. Poe made her laugh so hard her eyes watered. Leia clucked over her like a mother hen, doubtless experiencing both guilt and maternal urges. Even Finn, the stoic traitor, seemed completely enamored by her.

But Rey could feel Ren’s displeasure rolling off of him in waves as she made her way around the encampment. His glare prickled the back of her neck as she spoke to the soldiers. She could feel it, hot and uncomfortable. He made no move to intercept her or mark her as his territory, and that, she appreciated, but his emotions were palpable each time she glanced over at him.

Eventually, it was too much. She walked over to him, where he was crouched by a peripheral campfire, alone.

“You seem to make friends everywhere you go, my lady.”

Rey flushed. “Rey. Just Rey. Why are you so upset?”

He made a disgruntled noise and looked down at his wine. They were silent for a moment, and then he looked up and said, harshly, “You are finally _mine_.” He nearly bared his teeth as he emphasized the word. “I endured _months_ of watching you with another man, and the only reason I did not kill him was because he was the Crown Prince. I will not be merciful to anyone else.”

Rey opened her mouth to rebuke him for treating her like a prized horse, and then shut it, sensing the vulnerability behind his aggressiveness. He was glowering at her, but in the manner of a wounded animal, not a strutting one.

People were watching – some clandestinely, some not even bothering to hide their curiosity – and she didn’t care. She was liberated from the palace, free of her husband and free of her secrets. Let them watch her hold out her hand to Ren and draw him into the dark trees to make love.

“I _am_ yours.” Her voice was low, so that at least no one else could hear. His eyes burned as she drew closer, but not with jealousy. He wound his fingers through hers when she beckoned him. “Come with me, my love.”

***

When they were far enough away from the campfires to be cloaked in dark, silent forest, Rey let go of Ren’s hand – she’d led him through the darkness like sure-footedly, like a wood-sprite – and drew him to her, cupping his face and forcing him to bend and kiss her. He sighed regretfully into her mouth and broke the kiss, resting his forehead on hers and placing his hands on her hips, gingerly, tracing the protruding hipbones with his thumbs.

“You’re hurt.” For the first time since she’d known him, Ren sounded young and unsure of himself. For all his blustering minutes earlier, his hands trembled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She lipped at his ear. “You won’t hurt me.” Tracing the rim of it she added, in a heated half-question, “You can be gentle, can’t you? You’re a monster to everyone else, but you are good to me.”

“I can try.” He mumbled into her hair, snaking his arms around her waist, cupping her bottom, and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and pulled her borrowed shirt over her head. Her arms wrapped around the back of head, holding him where she could kiss him over and over, still half-in the sleeves of her discarded shirt.

In a forest, up against a tree seemed as good a place as any to fuck, but he vividly remembered their coupling in the archives on the Imperial Palace, and so he laid her out on the moist, grassy ground instead. He propped himself up on his elbows, his arms bent at a right angle on either side of her body. His hands, so large and calloused, cupped her head, cradling it and protecting it from the cold ground. Their clothes peeled off, layer by layer, and as they came off, he tucked them under her, carefully, making a sort of nest.

When they were naked, save her bandages, he nuzzled at her breasts through the bandages wrapping her torso from under her arms to her ribs, mumbling, “I wish I could see these.” His hot breath seeped through the cloth. “And kiss them.”

Rey tried to rear up, bending her arm behind her back to unfasten her bandage, and winced as her wounded shoulder bumped his.

“No, no.” He crooned, leaning on one arm, and splaying the fingers of his other hand over her chest to ease her back to the ground. “We’ll have time for that later. When your shoulder heals.”

She made a soft noise of agreement, even if she only half-believed him. Everything would change, whether or not the rebels successfully mounted their offense. If they did, Rey and Ren would both be in peril as high-ranking members of the Empire. If the attack was thwarted, doubtless the Emperor would exact his punishment. Both were sobering prospects.

But tonight, they were alone in the trees, and Rey chose to believe that they had all the time in the world.

Ren was unusually compliant; likely in an effort not to hurt her. He let her push him onto his back and climb atop him, rubbing her wet cunt along his body and wrapping her hands around his member. It stood stiff, reaching for her navel.

When she leaned forward to kiss him, she slid along the tops of his thighs, and his cock pressed in between her lower lips. He made a soft, frustrated noise into her mouth, gripping her bottom and lifting her up to line himself up with her entrance. She sunk down without any further ado. He hissed and his hands bruised er hips as she eased down the length of him until her pelvis was flush with his. Even then, she almost strained, trying to be closer.

Rey rocked over him, slowly, bracing herself on his shoulders and looking at their colliding sexes, her chin tilted all the way down to her chest so she could watch him ease in and out of her. She could tell he was trying to hold back. His face was screwed up in the dim light, and his breath came out in little huffs, but his self-control held fast and he didn’t thrust up into her.

After a few minutes, his nature, his desire for control in all things, got the best of him.  He grasped her buttocks, kneading and pulling them sharply into him to direct the back-and-forward rocking of her hips and make it faster.

When she’d set a pace that seemed to satisfy him, he stopped moving her hips, and pushed his index finger into her mouth. She almost choked on it, for a moment, and then latched on, sucking. It was just a hunch – she he wasn’t sure what he meant by putting his finger into her mouth, but she didn’t have time to find out. He pulled his finger away just as soon as it was slick with her spit, and snaked his hand back behind her gyrating bottom. His wet finger rubbed circles around the puckered skin in between her buttocks, and she sighed, closing her eyes.

When the tip of his finger pushed in she arched her back and said an obscene word, and he laughed. “Yes?”

 “Yes.” She breathed, grinding herself down on his cock. “Yes.”

The palm of his other hand found the front of her sex and rubbed against her, in a steady, circular motion. He didn’t even bother isolating his efforts to her sensitive little nub. He was everywhere at once and it was enough to overwhelm her.

 “Oh.” Another breathless laugh from him, hoarser and more aroused, now. “Oh, _yes_.” She came like that, steadying herself with one hand splayed on his chest while she trembled, clenching around him an digging her nails into his skin.

Boneless and sweaty, Rey sunk onto his chest. She felt, more than heard, the rumble in his chest, and then his arms were around her, and they were rolling in the grass. He might have put his weight on her bad shoulder, but she didn’t feel it through the foggy afterglow. “I love you.” She sounded almost drunk.

Ren hoisted her legs up and around his waist, sinking in to the hilt with a satisfied grunt, by way of answering. She whimpered, and he gasped out, without halting his thrusts, “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She lied, twisting her fingers into his hair and pushing her hips up to meet his.

“Liar.” Ren groaned the word, pumping into her with abandon. “I love you.”

He only thrust a few more times before unceremoniously withdrawing from her body, panting, to grasp his sex-slicked cock in his own hand and aim it at her belly.

She knew what he was doing. She knew he remembered her anger and fear after their last coupling. Her heart swelled, warming, somehow, at his willingness to sacrifice his moment of completion in between her legs for her own peace of mind.

Rey only considered it for a moment. She pulled him back to her with her hands and legs and held him close, feeling him throb and swell once he was fully sheathed again. She mouthed his neck and whispered encouragement into his ear and he came, with a blissful, guttural noise, inside of her.

They lay in the cool grass for a long time, nestled into their nest of clothes, wordlessly. The stars hung low in the sky and Rey slept, blissfully, curled against his chest, her breath tickling him intermitted.

Ren did not sleep. He stroked her hair and studied the stars, and plotted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blushes and hides and waits for validation in the form of comments and kudos* 
> 
> PS: Since sinning is winning, I've been toying with the idea of a one-shot or short multi-chapter piece on the student/professor trope because... well yeah, that's my kink. Isn't it everyone's though? All those in favor vote "aye" in the comments below.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I die? Jump ship? Abandon this ficlet? No! If you're still around, thank you, thank you, thank you! The next few chapters were difficult to piece together, not least of all because I was completely swamped with Real Life. But, I've pieced it together, I've written it, and I'm back. Enjoy!

Ren alternately moved like a graceful dancer and a lumbering bear when he sparred. Rey perched on a fallen long, chewing her fingernail, and watched him circle Finn. The dust rose up around their feet, coating Ren’s black trousers. His dark eyes were trained on the former trooper, unblinking. All of the other sparring matches he’d partaken in that morning, in a play-acting version of what would happen in Coruscant under cover of night in a matter of mere hours, had been at least nominally friendly. Ren had ousted every man, slowly, painstakingly earning their respect. The fights had been fierce, but at the very least they’d been _for practice_.

This one – less so.

Finn’s jaw was steely. Ren looked predatory. Even the gaggle of onlookers was hushed.

Leia settled onto the log next to Rey, her eyes never leaving the duel. “How does your shoulder feel?”

“Better.” Rey rested her chin on her knees. She’d developed the habit of curling her torso in on herself, as if to protect it.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the ground.” Leia said, mildly. “It likely doesn’t help.”

Rey flushed, avoiding the older woman’s eyes. She studied Ren’s footwork. “I’m not sleeping on the ground.” It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a lie. She’d spent the last three nights curled up on Ren’s chest between the roots of a great tree. He had strained his back from lying on the ground, though – she could tell when he feinted to the left.

“Mm.” Leia leaned back on her hands. “And my son hasn’t been slipping away from the man I told to keep an eye on him every night.”

Offended, Rey drew herself up. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Leia smiled faintly. “I’m _quite_ sure he would rather die than be separated from you.” Rey reddened and examined her fingernails. She and Ren been habitually secretive about their relationship for so long, by absolute necessity. It felt strange to acknowledge what went on between them to anyone else, least of all Leia Organa.

“He isn’t going anywhere. But – peace of mind. For me.”

The fell into silence again, watching the sparring. Both men were breathing hard now, droplets of sweat making minuscule mud pockets on the dust ground around their boots. Rey knew Ren well enough to see that he was toying with Finn – he danced around the issue, teasingly, showing off his superior swordsmanship and reach. Finn, on the other hand, almost looked as if he was trying to land killing blows.

After one such blow sliced a lock of Ren’s errant hair, the knight seemed to decide he was bored of teasing the younger man. His next blow was monumentally forceful, knocking the smaller man off-balance.

A collective gasp spread through the crowd like wildfire, and Rey’s neck snapped up. Finn stumbled backwards on his feet, spinning ungracefully, flailing for just a moment, and Ren lunged in. He didn’t do the gentlemanly thing, holding his blade at the ready and asking for a _yield._ He shoved Finn between the shoulder blades with his hands, with brute force, knocking him flat onto the dirt.

It was silent for a moment, and Rey wondered, for a sick moment, if Ren would kick or stab Finn. He didn’t. He reared around, his sword still raised in a challenge.

“Anyone else want their pound of flesh?” His voice was low and menacing, but it carried, as he circled Finn, who was coughing on the ground, spinning his blade leisurely around his wrist.

When no one answered, Ren planted his feet flat. He stared his mother down, almost defiantly. “This is your one chance. After this, I am your captain.”

Silence.

When no one spoke for several long beats, Ren sheathed his sword, strode over to Finn, and held out his arm. If it had _been_ silent, it was even _more so_ now. Rey barely breathed.

Finn stared at Ren’s gloved hand, grudgingly, and didn’t take it. After a moment, the taller man huffed, stripped off his black glove, and extended his bare hand, expectantly.

Finn took it, clasping forearms with Ren, and swung to his feet. He faced off with Ren for a moment longer, and then deferred to him in front of all of the resistance. There was a mass exhalation.

As Rey watched Ren, standing a head taller and commanding the attention of everyone in the clearing, she felt an unease. This may have been his birthright, and what’s more, what he was born to do, but for a moment, she didn’t recognize him.

***

Heavy surcoat. Belt. Sword-belt. Gloves. Helm. Ren was inspecting his things, in his mother’s tent. Rey watched him from the entrance, chewing her thumb. His movements had the practiced surety of someone who had prepared for battle many times.

When he made to put on his heavy surcoat over the simple clothing he’d been wearing since he’d been whisked from Coruscant to the forests, she made a soft noise that warranted her a glance, brow raised.

“Before you put all of that on.” She stepped into his chest, rubbing her nose against his skin in the v-shaped notch in his borrowed shirt. He cupped the back of her head with one hand, for a brief moment, and pressed an even briefer kiss to her hairline.

“I _am_ coming with you.” Rey knew she would be met with resistance when she said those words. She felt his chest stiffen under her cheek. He eased out of her embrace, holding her at a distance with his hands.

“You’ll go to Naboo, or Alderaan, with my mother. And _that_ ,” he said, archly, “is that.”

“You aren’t my _bodyguard_ anymore.” Rey leaned in; he locked his elbows and gripped her biceps, keeping her away. “Ren, please.”

“No.” His face settled into a stoic mask.

“If the rebellion fails, I’ll be caught and killed eventually, anyways.” Rey argued. “What does it matter? I’d rather die with you.”

“You aren’t going to die.” Ren said, harshly, turning away from her.

“And what if you die?”

To her surprise, he had to suppress an upwards twitch of his lips. “I have no intention of dying, either.” She glared at him, and then he added, gruffly, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I know you, Ren.” She snapped. “I know you aren’t – you cannot expect me to believe you’ve suddenly had a change of heart. You’re a loyalist.”

“No.” Ren buckled his sword-belt, ignoring her histrionics. He spoke flatly. “I am an opportunist. All men must seize their destiny, or else they fade into ignominy.” He’d adopted his old aristocratic tone in his condescension.

“And women?” She followed him out of the tent and towards his horse – no replacement for his gelding, he conceded, but the one the resistance had commandeered that was best-suited to his tall-frame – her arms crossed over her chest. A scowl plastered onto her face.

Ren looked back at her just long enough to direct a pointed glance at her midsection. He didn’t have to speak aloud, only cock a brow.

“You are _unbelievable_.” Rey exploded. “I am not a broodmare.”

“You could carry the next Emperor.” Ren told her, primly, fussing with his saddle.

Rey groaned, rubbing the space between her brows with her thumbs. “My husband is dead. There will _be_ no Empire.”

Ren gave her a long look, and turned away.

***

Most of the encampment slept late the next morning, to ensure they would be alert when the assault on Coruscant began. Ren did not – he leaned over a map with his mother and the upper echelon of the loose military hierarchy within the resistance. Most of them were politically disgraced dissidents who’d once been Imperial war heroes, like Admiral Ackbar. Although he’d ostensibly retired to become a country gentleman – to avoid censure and imprisonment – he’d retained his title. Poe Dameron, heir apparent of Alderaan’s royal garrison – now usurped by an Imperial garrison – was among the leaders bent low over the map together.

Rey couldn’t rest, either. She prowled the edge of the camp, resentfully. Ren had telegraphed to her, quite clearly, that she was unwelcome in this strategy session. Leia Organa’s eyes flickered across the clearing to her, occasionally, not unkindly, but no one called her over.

She sulked, superficially, until real anxiety set in. Somehow, in earning the begrudged trust of the Resistance, and his mother, Ren had lost hers. His secrets were obvious in the deep set of his mouth and his hooded eyes. Even if the others couldn’t see them, she could.

Her stomach was unsettled. That might have been due to nerves, but, nonetheless, she had to swallow down panicked bile. _No, no no_. She chanted the word in her head, pressing the heel of her palm to the fleshy spot between her hip bones. Whatever designs Ren had – and he had them, of that, she had no doubt – they included her, and even the baby that might be nestled under her ribs.

She had never once questioned whether he aspired to the Emperor’s throne. He had been a faithful servant until the very end. Now, she wondered if he saw himself ascending to rule, with her by his side, giving him heirs and, by her name, a legitimate claim. The thought made her stomach roil.

If those were his ambitions, then he must know she did not share them. But she knew him enough to know he would let nothing stand in his way.

Rey watched him, guardedly, from behind a tree. She had been an Imperial puppet and wife before, trapped into a lonely, dangerous role and left to mourn her independence. Never again, she resolved – not even for Ren.

***

It was surreal to plan an attack on the stronghold he had defended for so many years.

This was not to be an overt attack. Such an attack would be doomed to failure, Ren knew.

Finn, and about half of the contingency of treasonous troopers, would breach the walls of the Imperial Palace through a drain. Inside the walls, nearly a fifty members of the Imperial Guard were waiting in the underbelly of the Palace, sympathetic to their cause. With the goal of avoiding unnecessary bloodshed – and the hope that more members of the Guard would sway to their side – Finn and his men would confront the remainder of the low-ranking, long-suffering troopers.

Around midnight, the gilded gates would swing open, and the rest of the Resistance – having streamed steadily, slowly, into the city, disguised as peasants and traders – would rush into the Palace. The majority of them were tasked with disabling the deadly archers perched on the ramparts, and dispatching loyalist troopers. A small hunting party would go looking for the Emperor.

And Ren – Ren would find the Emperor before they did. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is that emo kid up to anyway?


	22. Chapter 22

Metal clanged on metal and ripped into flesh in the gardens and garrison of the Imperial Palace, but the corridors were eerily silent. Kylo Ren moved like a spectre through them. The torches had been doused and the guards were fled and fighting. Lords and ladies were hiding themselves in their apartments – doubtlessly waiting breathlessly to see if they should continue to pledge allegiance to the Emperor, or to his usurper. Ren’s cloak ebbed and flowed around him, whispering across the marble floors. It was the only sound.

The hunting party was combing through the Emperor’s private quarters. Ren knew better. The Emperor’s quarters were lavish but central and difficult to secure. The Emperor would have fled through back passages to the inner sanctum of the palace – a series of stone chambers cut into the jagged cliff that the Imperial Palace abutted against.

Two columns framed the heavy iron door that marked the passage to the cavern rooms. Descending the steps to the door was reminiscent of entering a crypt or catacomb. It _almost_ barely surprised Ren, then, when a hooded wraith emerged from behind the left column. He was clad all in black, his head swathed in black cloth and completely masked. Those must have been eyes, and not a soulless void, though, between the folds of ragged black cloth, because the ghost leveled a pikestaff directly at Ren.

A pikestaff – a foot soldier, then, not a wayward spirit. Ren withdrew his own weapon, in kind, and regarded the soldier.

He had no qualms running a soldier through with his broadsword – he’d done so, already, that night – but something about this lone holdout gave him pause. The slight, short man was more of a boy, judging by his size, but he stood his ground, defiantly. 

“Stand down.” Ren rumbled. “And I won’t kill you.”

The boy, wordlessly, lowered his pikestaff, subtly thrusting it forward in a warning.

Ren stalked forward, crowding the boy against the cragged stone wall. He extended his broadsword to close the distance between them, and could swear he saw the soldier flinch behind his black mask.

Still, the boy had pluck. He slashed forward with the staff, looking almost comically small compared to its length. The metal, spiked tip clanged against Ren’s broadsword, and, emboldened, the masked soldier swept the pikestaff across Ren’s body, trying to disarm him.

Ren blocked the blow, and then levied his own, testing the smaller man’s strength. The pike jerked forwards with the force of the hit, but – somewhat ingeniously, Ren had to admit – the boy thrust it forward towards Ren’s knees, forcing him to jump backwards.

Having forced Ren to retreat, the boy advanced, swinging the staff with gusto, if not fitness. He took advantage of his weapon’s superior length to keep Ren at bay for a series of strokes and parries. Finally, Ren disregarded his sword, and blocked a blow with his hands, wincing at the impact. The boy hesitated, surprised, and Ren had time enough to grip the end of the heavy staff securely. In response, the boy hunched over his end of the pike, hanging onto it for dear life.

That was the opportunity Ren was looking for. Grasping the end of the pike, he threw his weight down onto it, flipping the boy across the staff and onto the floor. He slid on the dusty stone, with a soft, surprisingly high-pitched cry, and came to a stop against the stone wall, heaving for breath.

Ren stomped over, a bit winded, and stood over the boy’s chest, sword hanging in his limp hand. He stared down at the wheezing boy.

Something – something was not right. On a hunch, Ren lunged forward and yanked the mask from the boy’s face.

Rey stared up at him, flushed and glaring fiercely.

***

Ren’s face registered recognition of her long before he thought to redirect the edge of his sword. Rey rolled out from underneath it and scrambled to her feet, feeling irrationally, that he might still kill her now that he’d seen her face.

“Rey?” He stumbled back, finally. “What are you doing here?”

Rey flattened herself against the wooden door. She struggled to speak, for a moment, even as she regained her breath. An irrational fear had driven her here, in disguise and very real danger of being killed in the fray. Even more irrational, she knew, was her belied that she could do something to prevent that which she feared. All of that was impossible to verbalize, so she finally said, weakly, “I came to save you.”

Ren’s brows ascended towards his hairline. He gestured to the pikestaff on the floor, and there was something very hostile in his short, jerky movement. “An unorthodox method of saving me.”

Rey exhaled heavily. “I thought I was the only one you would listen to.” She willed her voice to be more forceful. “Stop this. Please.”

Ren stepped closer to her, his voice low. “And what is it you think I am doing?”

Rey chewed her lip, unable to put her fear to words.

Ren eyed her, appraisingly. She noticed he hadn’t loosened his grip on his broadsword. “How did you – how did you sneak in?”

That, Rey could respond to. She levelled him a disdainful look. “ _Everyone_ was in disguise, Ren.”

He regarded her position, blocking the heavy oaken door, and then said, softly, almost tenderly, “Stand down.”

“No.” Rey spit the word out, she spread her arms behind her, grappling for purchase on the wooden door. “I can’t let you take power. It would ruin you.”

His brows rose, then, and he stopped short. Realization dawned on his face. “You think so little of me.” Her face must have betrayed the truth of his statement.  Ren stared at her, nostrils flaring. “What I do, I do for you. To keep you safe.”

Rey shook her head, despairingly. “I don’t _want_ to be married to an Emperor.”

Ren made a soft noise, and for a moment, she thought he was mocking her. His lips were twitching in that peculiar way that indicated he was hiding a smile. He looked at his boots for a second, half-smiling, and then stepped forward, casting his sword aside, and took her in his arms. Trapped, Rey blinked up at him. His eyes were very bright. “Marriage. That is what you are proposing?”

Rey flushed scarlet. She squirmed to escape him, and he held fast, securing one arm around the small of her back and bring the other hand up to cup her cheek. “Have you gone mad?”

“Marry me.” He traced the crease between her cheek and her nose. Her tears – they’d slid down her face, at some point – had made muddy little rivulets in the dust coating her skin. She was wearing an oversized, borrowed trooper’s uniform, she was dirty, and crying, and still, he kissed her soundly.  “Marry me, and we will go away together.”

Rey’s mouth gaped. “You – you don’t want to take the throne.”

Ren smoothed tangled hair back from her face. “Why should I?”

“This is not your battle.” Rey told him, reproachfully. “When you took command of Leia’s men – I thought you meant to kill the Emperor and seize the throne.”

The tenderness on Ren’s face collapses in on itself, darkened with memories. “I do mean to kill the Emperor.” His voice was granite. “I will have my revenge for what he did to you. And if the Empire falls, then so be it." His fingers twisted with anger in her hair, almost painfully. "Without the Empire, there will be chaos. And bloodshed. I can keep you safe, somewhere in the far reaches. Across the mountains or the sea.”

Rey nibbled her lip, her latent loyalty to Leia flaring up. “But there _can_ be a Republic. You could help –”

“That is a fool’s dream.”

“It is your mother’s dream.” She pushed.

“Not yours.” He shot back. “You were once satisfied with a simple life.”

Rey hesitated. She thought of Jakku, long sense evacuated and burnt to the ground by the raiders. She thought of riding her pony in the hills, of the acute sense of freedom and _loneliness_. She thought about the droughts, and the hunger, and hiding in the caves when enemies swept through the village.

She thought of Ren, and a stone house tucked into vineyard hills, full of children and miles and miles away from Coruscant.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He crouched a little, to peer into her eyes, unsure of what question she was answering.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

 He pressed his mouth to hers, just for a moment. He kissed her artlessly, in his excitement. His breath was hot and came fast onto her face when he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers.

His eyes were fluttered shut, even as he spoke. The words were hushed, whispered into the scant space between their faces. “I _will_ finish what I came here to do.” When he righted himself and faced her, his eyes were open. They were black and glinting. His voice was low and dangerous. “My _democratic_ mother would exile him. But I want him dead.”

***

Ren didn’t get the satisfaction of cutting down his former master. The Emperor was dead when they found him, a small vial still clenched in his wizened face. He was grimacing even in death, either from the effects of the poison he’d ingested, or the recognition that he had been vanquished.

Dameron, Finn, and the hunting party clamored down the hallway, into the crypt-like sanctuary, blades raised, just moments after they found him.

***

Word reached the caverns that the nobility and the leaders of the rebellion were congregating in the throne room, by the hundreds.

The people were chanting. Rebels and nobles they passed looked at her curiously. Rey shrank away from their eyes, wondering if they’d thought her dead, or worse, wished her dead. She wondered, briefly, whether there would be a mob waiting for her, or a public execution.

Ren’s hand tightened on her arm, as if he knew what she was thinking. As they threaded through the cavernous empty halls towards the throne room, the boom of hundreds of voices grew louder.

The throne room was full to the brim. Leia, Dameron, Finn, and Ackbar were there, looking slightly worse for wear but alive. They were surrounded by the surviving rebels at the center of the throne room. Lining the walls were the nobility – most vocal were Leia’s political supporters – who had emerged from the relative safety of their private apartments. They were yelling – no, chanting. But the words that echoed off the marble floors and magnificent gilded pillars weren’t bloodthirsty cries for revenge, or even the throes of anarchy.

One word, over and over:

_Kenobi. Kenobi. Kenobi._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end, my dear readers. I am reluctant to leave these two - I've grown quite fond of them. I hope you have too.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and re-wrote this chapter several times. I've finally left these two where they should be, I think.

Escaping from the throne room, filled with people whose gazes felt weighted like rocks on Rey’s shoulders, didn’t relieve the crushing pressure on her chest. Various people’s voices reached crescendo above the general din – she could hear them still from the private enclave behind the dais.

Rey had always felt detached from her own name – she hadn’t grown up with it – and now, hearing it alternately murmured and shouted was an out-of-body experience, as if they must be talking about someone else. She wished they were. Mere hours ago, she’d wondered whether she would be executed, the last remnant of the Imperial family that needed to be done away with. Perhaps this – being exalted to the throne – was a worse fate.

She’d stood numbly, silent, Ren’s grip growing tighter and tighter on her elbow, as the discussion swirled around her. Looking over at him a few times, she’d found his brow creased and teeth barely just slightly. Eventually, his grip had cut off the circulation to her right arm, and her breath had gotten shallow. She’d slipped away with a murmured excuse.

“Rey?” Leia intruded on her solitude.

“Has my fate been decided democratically?” She couldn’t stem the venom in her voice.

“Only you can make that choice, Rey.” Leia reproached.

“What choice do I have?” Rey turned from her, despairingly. “If I run away, they’ll be war.” She thought about armies massing, farmers recruited to take up arms and fight on behalf of their power-hungry Kings. With no Empire, or Imperial Army, that future was a virtual certainty. “I thought I was done doing my duty.”

“I know something about duty.” Leia’s handed ghosted over the braid falling down Rey’s back. “And love, and the choice between those two things.”

Rey swallowed the lump in her throat. “And do you regret your choice?”

Leia chewed her lower lip. “No. I do not.”

An odd lightness settled over her once she’d made her decision. She turned to Leia. “Will you help me?”

***

“Empress.”

Her first order was that Kylo Ren be brought to her, and that they be left alone. They stood across the room from each other, inapposite, for a long moment. She didn’t look any more an Empress than she had before she’d been unceremoniously crowned in front of all the rebels, quickly, so as to avoid any power vacuum.

“Do not call me that.”

His lips quirked, slightly, and he stepped into the center of the room, not quite daring to call her by her name or close the distance between them. “My lady.”

“My love.” She stepped into his chest, and pressed her nose into his tunic, not caring that it was still ash and blood stained from battle. Long arms folded around her, and long fingers played with the end of her braid.

“I asked you to marry me.” Ren said the words above her head, not accusingly, but as a simple statement of a fact. A reminder.

“I know.” She blinked into his chest.

“I cannot be content being your… consort.”

“I would not ask that of you.” Rey tilted her chin to look at his face. He looked oddly at peace. They were silent, for a moment, and then she told him, voice cracking, “My answer is still yes.”

“You cannot marry me now.” He interrupted her, face impassive. Even as he released her from their agreement, his hands spanned the small of her back, possessively.

“I know.” _But one day, perhaps_. When the Empire didn’t need an Empress.

“I am leaving Coruscant.” He said it haltingly. “I’ll ride out with Dameron and Finn and the others tonight.”

“Where?” Her voice sounded awkwardly high-pitched, as if her throat had tightened. She’d kept her composure throughout this painful interaction, destroying their plans and dreams in one fell swoop, but the prospect of him taking his leave broke her. Somehow, she hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t stay. He’d been her constant companion for so long. She had assumed he would protect her still. That had been his _promise,_ even before her marriage to the Crown Prince.

Then again, now, she’d all but broken her promise to marry him.

“To the North.” He ran his thumb under her eye to catch a tear. “And the West, and the East, and the South. No Empire can stand without its armies.” He cupped her cheek for a moment, eyes wistful. “But I will see you again.”

“Yes.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand, pressing it against her face and inhaling the particular smell of his skin. “When… when I have done what I can for the people.”

Ren smiled faintly, and pressed his forehead to hers. “You are more like my mother than I thought. And you are better for it.”

***

Leia proved to be an invaluable asset during Rey’s brief reign. The business of her sovereignty was to establish a viable Republic, and Leia had, after all, been the architect of the idea. She brought stacks of books and scrolls to Rey’s private chambers, covering every surface with paper that might give insight.

Rey did not sleep. It spooked her to be alone in the Emperor’s old rooms, and besides, her sense of urgency was too great. The sooner she could abdicate, the sooner the violence had dulled, the sooner Kylo Ren would return to her. The sooner she could establish a Senate and hand over her power to them piecemeal, the lower the risk that she could become what she’d hated: a tyrant.

She had another, more practical reason, to finish her work and fade into anonymity. It was not two weeks into her reign that she began to vomit in the morning. She remembered Ren’s words – you could be carrying the future Emperor – and swore to herself that she wouldn’t let them come true. She would abdicate, rather than let her child be born into a gilded cage.

And, in the meantime, Rey desperately tried to keep her swelling stomach a secret. In this matter, she trusted only Leia, as well. They devised heavy velvet skirts and cloaks to hide her thickening. Leia banished all servants from the royal chambers and nursed through her back pains and nausea herself.

If Rey were to be discovered, in all likelihood, the child would be doubtlessly be misidentified as the dead Crown Prince’s – an heir of Snoke’s. That would delegitimize her claim, as a Kenobi, to the throne, and undermine her efforts to establish a Republican system, free of dynasties. What’s worse, it would ensure that her child had powerful enemies. Her first maternal instinct came in a powerful urge to protect the unborn child from that fate. She cared little about what people would whisper about her, an unwed Empress, but the thought of anyone harming her child was unbearable.

So the season changed to winter, her baby grew in her belly, and with it, grew the Republic. The two – her two children, Leia joked, wryly – were locked in a footrace.

***

The Republic began labor pains just as soon as the Emperor was found dead, and so it came into being before the Empress’s child did.

As the political debate in Coruscant became more peaceful, the infighting crept onto the fringes of the Empire was slowly stamped out by Imperial forces. The armies of the Empire gained in numbers as warlords and kings who’d thought to seize power heard tidings from Coruscant: the new Empress had begun to delegate her duties to a Senate. It was a small body, representatives of those few Kingdoms who supported Republican rule. But with the might of the Imperial Army and the Empress’s political will and absolute power, the Senate was growing in influence.

Word of the Empress’s abdication reached the Imperial Army’s encampment in twelve days, borne on the lips of a trusted courier. The Empress had left no room for speculation about who would be her heir (or usurper). She had handed power to the Senate, and declared it the First Year of the Republic. Suddenly this mass of warriors in the steppes of the Northern Territories was no longer the Imperial Army. But nor was it disbanded – it was rechristened the Army of the Republic.

Kylo Ren, who had been so instrumental in quashing any threat to the Empress’s rule, would not lead this new army. The courier also bore a letter, sealed with red wax and the Empress’s heraldry. It was passed, quietly, into Ren’s hands, and within an hour he had left his post without a word, absconded on horseback without a platoon or even a bodyguard.

***

_K.R.,_

_You will have a son, or daughter, in a matter of months. Come home. If you’ll still have me, marry me. I don’t want our child to inherit an Empire, but he should have a father._

_R.K._

***

The rumor that grew and became somewhat of a folktale, repeated first by courtiers with knowing smiles, and eventually cooing maidens and tavern keepers, was that the Empress gave up her throne for the love of a commoner, a knight, and sailed across the sea to be his wife. With the Empresses’ parting blessing, the Republic was established, and all the land was peaceful and prosperous once more.

 It was the sort of story that ordinary people told their children – a fairytale.

The truth of the matter, of course, was both more and less romantic than the children’s story. The Empress did abdicate her throne, and she did love a knight. She did marry him, albeit in secret and already heavy with child, and together, they sailed across the sea. And in a sense, their story did end happily ever after.

There were children – the first, just weeks after their secretive nuptials, and the second making its impending arrival known in quick succession. The Republic did not abide in perfect peace, but the Republic persisted. Twice a year, representatives of the monarchs of every kingdom – now restored to their thrones, some through violence– sojourned to Coruscant to sit as Senators.

In the Second Year of the Republic, the Senator from Alderaan, restored to his kingdom and his crown, was among them.

The summer weather was waning, giving way to autumn, and that was how Rey knew the Senate had adjourned. Every evening, at sundown, she was torn, in exquisite agony, between standing over their son Aleph’s bassinet, studying his slack-jawed, sleeping, infant face, and hurrying away before the light faded. Just as soon as he was asleep, she would, more often then not, run to the stone terrace, where she could scan the sun-stained horizon.

Their home was secluded – a mile from a smattering of cottages that constituted a village and a few hours ride from the Leia Organa’s home in the capital of Alderaan. It had been an old royal hunting lodge, drafty, modest, and decidedly un-luxurious. It suited the orphan and the soldier well. They’d made it their home despite the Queen’s persistent requests that they take up residence with her.

This was part of an elaborate compromise that Leia and Ren had come to after hours of yelling and intervention by Rey. The monarchy had been restored in Alderaan, and Ren, as Leia’s only child, begrudgingly took up his title again. In exchange, until the throne was incumbent upon him, he would live quietly, in the countryside, free of expectation or duty.

So they’d had their way when it came to the house. Once-empty storerooms were well-stocked, the terrace was home to a friendly cat who chased away vermin, the library was full of books that had been brought in in great crates on mule’s backs, and a baby’s cry echoed off the stone walls.  Ren’s sword was racked near their bed – he could never let go of his need to have it within arm’s range – but his armor and heraldry were locked in an old chest.

They lived in relative solitude in the stone house, the nursemaid, cook, and manservant notwithstanding. At night, their small entourage of servants went to the hamlet nearby and the three of them were alone. It was a strange and glorious thing, to finally be well and truly alone together – that is, as alone as they would ever be. The house was small and the stone walls echoed, and Ren would have to clamp his hand over her mouth to stifle her when he made love to her, pausing his rocking movements to cock his head to the side and listen for a woken baby’s screams.

Aleph was a light sleeper, to their chagrin, and a serious child when he was awake. He had a head of rich chestnut curls, dark eyes, and a way of chewing his chubby little hand and studying his parents. His laughter was rare, but so were his tears. He was an observer – watchful, grave, and vigilant.

As for the second child, nestled comfortably in her belly, she could not guess. Perhaps he would be just as much a little philosopher as Aleph. Perhaps he would be a _she_. Rey took comfort in the fact that, like his or her brother, the child would be born into a home, not a palace, where he would be safe, well-fed, and well-loved, not lonely and hungry and scared. She had grown up in poverty and become an Empress, and she wanted neither of those things for her children.

One day, she knew, Ren would be confronted with the inevitable. He would assume the throne of Alderaan as King after Leia’s death or abdication in old age. And, _one day_ , Aleph would be King, like his father before him. But that day seemed very far away, from Rey’s vantage point. She held her flattened hand up to her brow and squinted at the horizon, her other hand absently cupping the slight swell of her lower belly. A black-clad knight had ridden over the crest of the green hills. The rider pulled up his horse, seeming to spot her waiting on the terrace, and raised his arm in greeting. His cloak whipped in the wind. From her vantage point, all she could see was her husband.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally shamelessly plead for feedback, but this, my friends, is the end. This story took a great deal of planning and drafting and editing, and it would mean the world to me if you would give me your constructive criticism. Writing fiction is a passion project for me, but I would be lying if I said I didn't care whether other people like my work. 
> 
> Also, I have two new stories in the drafting stage - one, the aforementioned student-professor sinfest. Two, a kind of retelling of that cheesy old movie, The Prince and Me, which is possibly the most bizzare idea I've ever had! If you have any other ideas you'd like to see me explore - let me know. I need a good kick in the ass to start. 
> 
> Thanks for all the love, friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


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